Journey
by eMu3
Summary: Schwarz origin story, starts at Rosenkreuz and moves through Advanced Training. Focuses on Brad & Schu with Farfarello in the later chapters. Rated for language & non explicit bad stuffs. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Title: Journey

Author: eMu

Summary: For anyone familiar with my older Weiss work, this is a Schwarz-centric (ain't it always?) more serious look at the little universe I created with my partner Chikin.

Rating: M fo' language and non-explicit bad stuffs

Prologue

What are you doing?" Schuldig asked. His fan fiction author and thusly Goddess eMu was parked in front of a computer screen. This was hardly an unusual occurrence although it often foretold bad things for him. Or at least it did in the old days, when she actually wrote Weiss and Schwarz fan fiction. Then the wench had started college and there had been a decrease in the amount of fan fiction she wrote.

"Reading." eMu answered. She didn't deign to look away from the screen. She was more than used to being nagged by her more needy fully-developed character voices. True to form Schuldig put one hand on the back of her chair, bent over, and read over her shoulder.

"Fan fiction, huh? It's been awhile Chicky." Schuldig observed. "You know, I kinda liked it when you didn't read other peoples' fan fiction about me."

"Why? I thought you were vain." eMu observed.

"Exactly." Schuldig scowled. "Those assholes you read about are completely different assholes than how I really am-"

"Schuldig, you're a fanon version too, you know. I'm not Takahito Koyasu. His version is the real you."

"Yeah, well regardless, when you read that shit you made me and the Weisslings and the guys spend time with _their_-" And he said it like a dirty word, "versions, and they were always screwing each other-"

"You're screwing Yohji, Omi and Nagi are screwing each other, and Aya and Ken are screwing each other." eMu pointed out. Schuldig ignored her.

"And I was always a serial rapist in their universes. Why is that, anyway? Since when have I cared about Aya enough to want to fucking rape him?" Schuldig wasn't reading over her shoulder anymore, but now stood defiantly next to the computer, a look of outrage on his face.

"We've gone over this." eMu looked bored. She wanted to continue with the fanfic she'd found, which, though not excellent, was at least readable. "A lot of the fan fiction out there is an excuse for kinky sex, and your series is about a bunch of pretty boy assassins. There is going to be rape fan fiction out there, and you're more likely to be the rapist than the victim with your personality-"

"But why?!"

"Look, if it makes you feel better I can pull up that fan fic where instead of raping Omi he rapes you." She offered. That at least stunned him into silence, and she was able to read another full paragraph before he started shrieking and spitting from horror and disgust. "You know, you look like Daffy Duck when you do that."

"Please tell me I'm not being raped by anybody in the story you're reading now." He begged.

"No, no rape." eMu assured him. "I don't actually go searching for those fics. People just like to sneak non-con sex into their stories for some reason. Anywho, this one is about a completely consensual late night hook-up between you and Yohji. Sound familiar?" She teased.

"Let me see that." Schuldig elbowed her until she got out of the desk chair and took her place in front of the computer. He scrolled through the fic, his scowl occasionally deepening, and occasionally muttering under his breath in German or Japanese, knowing eMu couldn't follow it.

"Well?" She asked, when he appeared to finish.

"Why was I smoking? I don't smoke."

She rolled her eyes. They'd discussed this one almost as much as the raping, which amused eMu on the few occasions Schuldig wasn't being whiny and annoying about it. Why cigarette smoking bothered her fanon creation to the same level as being a disgusting rapist was lost to her.

"Schuldig, people make you a smoker because they haven't put the same pathetic amount of energy into developing you as I have. Well, most of the time that's the case anyway, sometimes developed versions of you smoke too. But anyway, they make you smoke, because Yohji smokes, and when people don't feel like taking the time they should to create you they just make you an evil Yohji."

"Evil Yohji?" Schuldig repeated incredulously. "He kills people too! And he's a total whore! He's doing this shit voluntarily, I'm enslaved. How the fuck does he get to be the good guy?"

"Because he's presented as a protagonist in the canon material and you're an antagonist. Get it?"

"Look, I've never seen a single episode of that pathetic show where I smoke, or a single panel in the mangas you actually bought from Japan even though you can't read them, or any of those weird pictures. I don't smoke." Schuldig whined.

"Can I finish reading the story?" eMu asked.

"It ends with me crying and Yohji stroking my hair promising we'll get out someday." He said with a look of heightened disgust on his face.

"Well if someone's going to have a post-coital cry-fest I think they picked the right assa-"

"Fuck you if you say it!" He snarled. "I'll surrender the chair if you make me a promise."

"You know none of my other characters insult me this much. I mean, Yohji's a little whiny, but Omi comes in here and he asks me how I'm doing, and sometimes he brings cookies-"

"Yeah, because I have so much in common with freaking Omi. Do you want your computer back or not?" And at this he held eMu's can of iced-tea threateningly over the keyboard.

"Okay! Okay! What's the promise?" She yelped.

"Write something better than this." He motioned to the screen. "Write something about us, and post it, and make it freaking realistic this time. Less homegrown pets, hamster conspiracies and Grau, and more of, like Rosenkreuz, and like how we found Farf, and maybe actually get to us offing Ouka because that's the kind of thing people want to see?"

"So you want me to post something about the 'real' you, even though you're a complete fanon creation as well, you're just a different sort of fanon?" eMu asked.

"This shit's insulting." He motioned to the screen again, and he looked frustrated. "How would you like it if people wrote this stuff about you?"

"People said shit about me in high school a lot. I thought it was funny. People thought me and my brother were orchestrating a school shooting."

"Whatever. Are you writing it or not?"

"Fine. But I'm starting at the beginning this time." eMu stated.

"Whatever. Wait, does that mean I get a pre-Rosenkreuz origin?" Schuldig asked, trying badly to conceal his excitement at this prospect.

"Sure." She said with the sort of smile that hinted there was a condition involved.

'Eventually…' She thought to herself.

Chapter One

'How much longer am I going to be playing human pretzel?' Brad wondered silently. He'd advanced to Intermediate-level training at the Rosenkreuz facilities for Psychic Resources, and was regretting it almost as much as being abducted by the shits in the first place. The first training exercise his instructors had placed him in was something dubiously labeled 'box training'. It involved being folded into a position that would make a star contortionist proud and locked in a lightless black cell the size of a mini-fridge for hours on end.

The enclosed, dark environment was theoretically supposed to create a separation from reality that would encourage visions. And it had, he'd Seen a lot. However, he was now in so much pain that every time a vision started, an ache would bring him back to the present, in his tiny box.

He was lucky, he thought with a hint of irony, not to be at all claustrophobic. One of the other precogs had been, and when she'd begun cell-training it had told horribly on her. They kept her in the boxes for days at a time, and after the first week of it he'd seen her in the cafeteria. She had been inhumanly pale, with shadows under her eyes, and her movements were…different. Even when she looked at someone, her focus was never really on them. She was Seeing things more than anyone else in their age group, but she still had no control over it, so they had her go back into cell-training. After two months of it he'd seen her again, and she looked healthier. She wasn't claustrophobic anymore, and claimed to be enlightened. Enlightened about what she wouldn't say, but it had clearly come from some far-ahead vision she'd had. He thought she was just insane.

He was beginning to worry about his own sanity. It was hard to keep track of how long he'd been in the box. Such was the nature of the exercise. Visions were disorienting to one's sense of time. A vision of an entire day could go by in a matter of seconds, and if one was going to make use of one's talent in combat situations one had to be able to keep oneself oriented. And he'd already Seen enough to know he'd be in combat situations.

His eyes were going out of focus, which he could tell by sensation only as there wasn't enough light in the cell to actually see anything. The sensation meant another vision was starting. He encouraged it on as best he could, taking any distraction from his current discomfort he could get.

Suddenly he was older, taller and thankfully standing erect in the open air. He glanced down and saw a pristine white suit, pretty much the reverse of the rags he wore during his training in Rosenkreuz. So he was apparently doing better. There were three other people standing near him at various angles, but they were all blurs. Not because he wasn't looking at them, but because they were poorly defined. This vision was fluid, he'd Seen it before, but it tended to change with every viewing. Meaning the slightest change in the present could keep this future from ever happening.

He'd been planning for this one even before the Rosenkreuz Scouts had taken him while he'd been walking home from school. He'd first seen visions of the psychics' barracks when in kindergarten and spent most of his elementary school years looking for a way to avoid it, finding none. By middle school he'd settled on a vision where only he was taken and not his younger brothers as well, and from then on he'd been looking for his escape.

What he'd pieced together so far was that he'd need to advance quickly and he'd need to surround himself with a loyal group of complimentary talented and like-minded psychics. The best way to do this seemed to be to become the head of an assassin team, which the Organization had a tendency to sell for profit. He'd do much better trying to escape from some secondary organization like Esset than from Rosenkreuz. If he was quick in a matter of five years or so he could be at Esset, pulling the strings to bring this very vision into being, in which he and his loyal team killed the elders of Esset and finally earned their freedom. From start to finish his master plan would take about fifteen years.

He could see the Esset elders, two old men and an old woman, all marveling at just how powerful his team had become without their notice. Brad was speaking to them, but he didn't follow what he said: some of the blurs next to him had become more defined.

Standing just next to him with her deceptively slender arms folded was a slender woman in a white traditionally cut Chinese dress, her waist-long black hair tied in a rope-like braid. Her eyes looked bored, but the grin on her face hinted at the pleasure she took in the elders' discomfort. He recognized her. This was Sylvia, a telekinetic with mild telepathic prowess. She was a few years younger than him, but they got along well and had done some combat training together. She was good.

The blue on his other side also came into focus. He recognized his roommate, Alex. Alex looked much less confident than Sylvia, in fact he was almost trembling, and Brad momentarily questioned the necessity and usefulness of having two precognitive assassins in one group, especially considering Alex's low level of talent and Brad's incredibly high level. In fact, he'd never really expected for Alex to live this long. How Alex had managed to complete his Rosenkreuz training had probably depended completely on his roommate's manipulations.

Brad was suddenly distracted by Sylvia placing her hand on his arm. He glanced at her, trying not to let his surprise show. They were supposed to wipe out the Esset elders. Then they would be free. Why was she stopping him?

"I'm afraid this isn't in our best interest Brad darling." Sylvia purred.

"Excuse me?" It was quite clearly in all of their best interests.

"S-Sorry Brad. She knew, she was, like, in my head and she made me tell her what I was Seeing and what we were planning together. I'm really s-sorry." Alex stuttered.

Sylvia shot him, and he crumpled to the ground. It was as simple as that. She was always very detached when she worked. She never even moved her gaze from Brad's face. "Of course the Rosen won't really mind that these three fools have been dethroned. That's why we let you take your game as far as this. You're talented, Darling, they're all very willing to instate the two of us as the new heads of Esset. If you're interested. Or do you still want your freedom so badly?"

He took a compulsive step back from her. Everything was so wrong, this wasn't how the future was supposed to turn out.

Sylvia read from either his horrified expression or his surface thoughts that he wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect of ruling over Esset. She raised the gun again, a saddened expression on her face. It only lasted a moment, before she again became the cold, precise assassin again. "I'm sorry it has to be like this then Brad. You're too much of an idealist. There isn't any freedom for us, just better positions in the game."

He was in the cell again. The horror he'd felt from the vision had jarred him from the receptive state necessary to see it.

He rethought his strategies again. He'd only recently toyed with the idea of keeping Alex around. He had sympathy for the kid, as he truly was a nice person. Alex wasn't cut out for a life in Rosenkreuz or Esset at all, and it showed. In a matter of months he would either snap or be 'weeded out', unless he had someone to help him. Brad had thought about helping him, mostly out of pity but also because in his old life Alex would likely have been a casual friend. They had some of the same interests, and Alex was a talented musician. If they were in high school together, Brad probably would have been envious of him. But musical talent wasn't important in their new world, and Alex would probably die.

Then there was Sylvia. Sylvia was involved in most of his visions. She was talented, she was ruthless enough to advance, and they got on well…but this had scared him. He needed a talented telepath to form an assassin group, and if he wanted to get traded off to Esset in four years' time, when an opportunity he'd glimpsed in a vision would arise, and be leader of his team at that time, then he would need a prodigiously talented one. But Sylvia was a prodigiously talented telekinetic with some telepathic ability, apparently enough to keep tabs on her teammates. Clearly she wouldn't work out. But if it wasn't going to be Sylvia, then who?

It was a risky move to force another vision about mutiny and overthrow in such a short period of time, but frankly he didn't much care. If he was going to spend an untold seeming-eternity folded into a shape completely unnatural for the human body, he was going to distract himself, and he wanted an answer to his questions.

He worked himself into the receptive state once again. Calling visions was similar to meditating, and with enough practice the visions became less random. Still, he was attempting something tricky for an amateur. He had a certain amount of knowns, as he was looking for a time period, location and specific event. But he also had unknowns, as he didn't know any of the individuals necessary to bring him to that place. This was what the precogs were developing their talents for, this scenario. To be able to figure out which pieces of the present needed to be manipulated to bring about a desired outcome. There are several ways to see the future, but to see something one could exact influence on, to be truly able to be guided from it, that was the challenge.

After long minutes, or maybe hours, it was still hard to tell at his orientation level, a blurry picture began to form. He saw himself again, the same age as before, in the same white suit, and the blurred figures were behind him again.

So far so good, no members of his team were committing mutiny. The blurs all seemed just as happy as he was to be there. 'But who are they?' He was straining himself to his breaking point, but the blurs weren't any more distinguishable.

Wait…wait, the one to his left. The blur was shorter than him, and the shape of the head…the blur had long hair? Yes, that was it, long hair with an orange tint…that was the most he could make out before another sharp ache jarred him back to reality.

He was back in the cell, and now covered with a thin layer of perspiration. It hadn't told him much, but he at least knew to keep his eyes trained for a long haired red head.


	2. A Training Exercise

Chapter Two

"Meet your new roommate." Maya barked. She'd opened the door with a loud bang, and Brad barely had time to get to his feet before she'd shoved a trembling teenager into the tiny dormitory room. Maya had a position of rank in Rosenkreuz that was ironically called a Nanny. Brad wasn't sure if Nanny was a nickname or euphemism for some proper title he'd never heard, but he didn't find the joke very funny. Nannies patrolled the dormitory buildings and looked for trouble. They were usually precogs or telepaths, and Maya happened to be a telepath, which made her dangerous. At Rosenkreuz there was no privacy, not even privacy in thoughts.

There was very little trouble in Maya's building. Incidentally there was also a high turnover rate in the population.

"Um…" He wanted to ask about Alex, but couldn't think of a way to phrase the question that wouldn't end in Maya hitting him with her nightstick. She actually carried a nightstick with her.

"Your old roommate was transferred." Maya said with a cruel smile, indicating in this particular case transferred was a euphemism for dead. Of course, a transfer was technically involved, the transfer from the dorm building to the crematorium.

"Oh." His stomach twisted from a stab of guilt. He could have helped Alex, but then, he would have had to watch over the kid for his entire life, sacrificing all his goals in the process, and he hadn't wanted that either. It didn't change the fact that with his intervention Alex would still be alive, and Alex was an innocent. He'd never done anything wrong, and that's why he'd been killed.

"This is Becky." Maya introduced, before slamming the door again. There was a click as it was locked. "Lights out in fifteen!"

Becky looked ready to pee herself.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Brad suggested. "You must be new."

She nodded, but didn't move otherwise.

"Seriously, I know it's a small room, but you still wanna be sitting on the bed before the lights go out. It gets really, really dark." He pointed out.

Becky sat stiffly. Her eyes were wide, darting around the room. It was starting to make him nervous.

"My name's Brad. Um…I've been here for a little while now. So if you have any questions…I'm sorry, did something happen to you before they brought you here?"

"Isn't being here enough of a something?" Becky asked in a quavering voice.

"Good enough." He said with a laugh. She focused her gaze on him, and he shuddered. Her eyes hadn't been wide from fear, they were apparently always wide and slightly protuberant. They were also a pale shade of periwinkle he'd never seen in human irises before, and he found her gaze unnerving.

"I can't believe you can laugh. Don't you know where we are?"

"Of course I do, you're the new on-"

"Bradley Crawford your plan is not going to work. Even if you do escape this place physically, you'll have to leave yourself behind to do it." She broke her gaze from his and went back to frantically glancing around the room. "She's in my head. Maya's in my head. Goodnight Bradley."

"G'night."

He didn't really know what to say to her. Alex had been a very low level Talent, and the two boys had joked around with each other and tried to make the best of it. Becky wasn't that sort of precog, apparently. And apparently she could already See quite well, new to Rosenkreuz or not, because she'd definitely Seen her imprisonment coming, and in enough detail to know more about her roommate than he knew about her.

Becky was dead by the end of the week. Brad had wanted to ask her how much she knew about his plans, and if she'd Seen anything that could help him, but every time he'd tried to talk to her, she'd cut him off saying Maya was in her head. She was probably right too, Maya did like to patrol the new kids.

Becky left for the lavatory during a meal and quite simply never came back. Brad didn't think much of it until lights out that night when she wasn't in their dorm room. He promptly reported it to Maya. If he waited, and she'd escaped, he would be punished for being an accomplice. Maya sent up an alarm amongst the other Nannies, and ordered Brad to look around for her.

"Why me?"

"She's your roommate, you know how she thinks better than us. Now move it-"

"She's been my roommate for three days Maya, I know jack about her."

Maya pushed her nightstick against his throat and pinned him to the wall by it. "Well I hope you picked up something from your time together, because if we don't find her I will hold you responsible. Understood?"

"Ghht!" When that didn't suffice for an answer he gave her the thumbs up, and she let him free.

"Now find her Crawford. You have free reign of the grounds. I'm giving you special permission. Consider this a training exercise." She turned on her heel and started kicking open doors and barking orders at the inhabitants.

Brad grabbed his boots and sweatshirt from his own room, and pulled them on as he made for the grounds. He wracked his brain for something, anything he knew about Becky that would indicate where she'd go if she could escape. In all honesty, after the first night he'd for the most part avoided talking to her since she was creepy, except for when he'd tried to wheedle information about his future from her.

He'd never been on the Rosenkreuz grounds after dark before. It was an ugly place in daylight. Nothing seemed to grow there, the grounds were large stretches of dusty red dirt and concrete walkways. The buildings were squat brick things dotted with barbed wire and iron bars. A rumor had gone around that the site was a restored concentration camp, and it was considered a particularly credible rumor.

During the day kids in tanned jump suits would be led to different buildings by Nannies, Teachers and Administrators. At night the grounds were for the most part empty, barring the occasional patroller. The walkways were lighted very poorly, just the occasional floodlight that stuck out at awkward angles from adjacent buildings, leaving large portions of unlit walkway between the lights.

He walked around aimlessly after giving up on finding Becky through insight, and instead decided to try coaxing a vision of her whereabouts. He almost missed the sobbing sound because of it.

It was coming from between two buildings, some faint crying. One building contained a gymnasium, the other he didn't recognize. It was probably a dorm for one of the other types of Talents. The alleyway between the buildings was completely dark, but he could distinctly hear the soft, breathy sounds of a child crying. He couldn't imagine it would be Becky, but he decided to check the alleyway anyway. It was for the best, chances are it was some other potential escapee, and if that was the case even if it wasn't the escapee he was looking for he would still be expected to bring them in.

"Is someone there?" Brad called. He gingerly stepped into the alley. It was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing and by nature he hated stepping blindly into unknown situations. He was rarely caught off guard, and that was the thing he hated most about Rosenkreuz and, later, Esset. They were always thrusting him into the unknown.

The person in the alley didn't answer him, but he heard a startled gasp and the crying stopped for a minute. Then he heard a scraping sound that indicated the person was scooting backwards, and they were breathing heavy, whoever they were. They were clearly terrified. He walked a little further into the alleyway and held his hands in front of him to show they were empty. "I'm not here to hurt you." He hoped his voice sounded reassuring. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"  
An answer was screeched at him this time, but it was in a language he didn't understand. The voice sounded very young, and he wished he could see into the alleyway a little better. It sounded like a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old.

Brad squinted into the end of the alleyway. Some clouds shifted above them, allowing a tiny expanse of moonlight to shine on the two of them. He could just make out a messy blond head, buried in shaking arms propped on his knees. Rosenkreuz didn't often take children so young. They generally preferred to take Talents who were into their adolescence, as Brad had been, to see what kind of effect puberty would have on their abilities, and if they could hold onto their sanity despite the pressure of their Talents. And yet here was a child no older than ten, wearing an ill-fitting tan jump suit.

Brad crouched next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to tell the kid that it was alright, but in addition to speaking a different language from the child, he didn't want to lie.

The boy looked up, and their eyes met, cobalt blue and honeyed-brown. The contact set off a stream of vivid visions, so forceful and sudden that Brad fell over backward and had to fight off the urge to wretch. He tried to make sense of the psychic assault, but it was all passing too quickly: white suits, a man with horrible side burns laughing obnoxiously, a boy eating rice, Sylvia shooting at him, a bloodstained pale boy licking a knife, an androgynous Asian lunging at him with a sword, a flash of orange hair and a self-satisfied grin…

"Are you okay?"

He was on his back. His eyes were half open, and everything was blurry. There was a child standing over him, clutching Brad's glasses, with wide, scared blue eyes and messy blond hair.

"Can I have those back?" Brad asked, reaching for his glasses. The boy handed them to him in a quick, jerky movement.

He sat up, and put a hand to his head as it spun. He was still disentangling himself from the visions. It felt as though he'd Seen the rest of his life and yet he couldn't understand any of it.

"You're bleeding Mister."

Brad's head had cleared somewhat, and he noticed the boy was speaking in heavily accented English.

"What?"

"Y-your nose. I said you're bleeding Mister." The boy repeated. He'd clearly been too, there were flakes of dried red around his nostrils. Brad wiped at his own nose half heartedly, then put his glasses back on.

"My name's Brad Crawford. Can you tell me yours?" He asked carefully.

"I'm…um…" The boy mumbled and stared at his feet. He chewed his lip. "I don't speak English."

"You're speaking it right now." Brad observed.

"I know. I don't know what's going on, I speak German but I can't remember any of it. When you looked at me I saw…" He put his hands in front of his forehead and wiggled them. "Stuff! And then it was gone and I couldn't think in German anymore. But you speak English. I think you stole my thoughts." He accused.

"You saw stuff? What did you see?" Brad asked.

"I saw…lots of stuff…I saw someone with a sword, and I saw…I saw a lady with a gun and I saw a building blow up and then I saw water and a kid who was moving things without touching them and then I saw me, at least I think it was me, and I was smiling-"

"I saw that too. You think you're the one with the long red hair?"

The boy considered. "I thought it looked more orange."

It was hard to mask his excitement. This boy was a telepath, and a strong Talent at that, although obviously lacking in finesse. Which was to be expected, he'd obviously had no formal training. He'd somehow managed to elude his captors long enough to disappear into this alleyway, and he would grow up to have long orange hair. It was the telepath from his successful vision, it had to be.

"What's your name?" Brad asked eagerly.

His eyes welled with tears, and then turned angry. "I don't know! You stole it when you stole my German!" He screeched. "I can't remember anything! I can't…where am I Brad?"

"You! Crawford, who do you have with you?" Maya barked, shining a flashlight on the pair rather suddenly. Brad threw a hand up to shield his eyes, and the boy whimpered and hid behind him.

"I don't really know. A telepath, I think. He's lost." Brad answered diplomatically.

"That's not your responsibility. Becky's dead, hanged herself in the toilets. You might have mentioned the last place she went was to the lav. Wait a minute, I know that kid. C'mere…" She was clearly trying to make her voice sound gentle, but instead of barking it was only gruff, and the kid clung tighter to Brad's side.

"No! I want to stay with Brad." The boy whined. Maya's eyes narrowed with dislike.

"I said come here you little brat! Hey, didn't you only speak German an hour ago? What did you do to the kid Brad?"

"I didn't do anything, not consciously anyway. When we made eye contact our minds met. He's suffered some memory loss, he might need to see a medic." Brad explained.

Maya scoffed. "The Nanny for his block will make that decision, not a low-level precognitive like you. Now come on, you get back to the barracks, and you come with me!" She yelled at them.

"No!" The boy yelled. He'd wrapped his arms around Brad's waist and buried his face against his abdomen. "I'm not letting go until he gives me my mind back!"

"Crawford, do you actually have any of the kid's thoughts floating around in that thick skull of yours?" Maya demanded.

Brad thought for a minute. He tried to think something in German, but his mental words remained in stubborn English. He looked at the boy and tried to think of his name, but nothing came, other than that he was acting something like his little brother Darren. But that was the sort of thought he always had without insight from another mind. "No, I don't think I have any of his memories."

"Then it's a malfunction of your own kid, Brad's not gonna help you. Now let go and COME WITH ME!!" She roared, finally losing it and attempting to pull the kid off of Brad.

"No!" The kid yelled back, clinging harder. He had strong little arms, and his bony fingers dug into Brad's side, no doubt leaving little ten year old finger sized bruises.

"Ow! Ow, this is not helping, will both of you stop!?" Brad yelled. The results were instantaneous. The boy let go of Brad, and Maya overbalanced and fell on her ass. The boy almost went with her, but recovered his balance in a show of superb agility. He grinned, and Brad thought of the vision. He could just imagine that face framed in stringy orange instead of tangled yellow.

"Alright. I have had enough." Maya gripped her flashlight threateningly. It was a suitable stand in for her nightstick. "You are coming with me. You are going back to the barracks."

The kid looked to Brad. "Should I go with her? She seems kind of crazy."

"Why are you deferring to him?!" Maya screamed.

"What?" The boy asked.

"She wants to know why you're listening to me." Brad explained.

"Oh. Well she could have just said that. I'm listening to Brad because he's going to take care of me. I saw it when I looked at him. And I don't want to listen to you because you're crazy and you want to beat me with your flashlight."

Neither telepathy nor precognition were really all that necessary to understand how the boy came to that last conclusion, but Brad decided it was still a show of the kid's Talent. Maya looked unnerved.

"I had my shields up. How did you know what I was thinking?" She screeched.

As though to infuriate her more, the boy shrugged. "Shouldn't you know that? I'm just a kid."

"Look, Maya, how's if I take him over to the Telepath's barracks? He seems to trust me. It'll make the whole thing a lot easier, don't you think?" Brad offered.

Maya considered, breathing like a winded rhinoceros in the process. Clearly she had wanted to take all credit for finding the valuable new commodity, a nine or ten year old who could breach a seasoned telepath's shields without detection and merge his mind with a stranger's, yet still emerge with his sanity intact. A prodigiously talented telepath. But he was only listening to Brad, and Brad didn't plan on losing him.

"Fine!" She spluttered. "I have to cut Becky down anyway. Fucking bitch, bet she offed herself just before my review on purpose. Well? GET GOING!!" She barked.

"Come on." Brad took the boy's hand and led him down the alley and onto a lighted walkway.

"What is this place?" The boy asked.

"Rosenkreuz. The most miserable place on Earth."

"Then why do you stay?"

Well that was a promising remark. "We stay because we have to. The people here are more powerful than us, and they could kill us if we tried to leave."

"Oh." They walked in silence a few minutes. "But Brad, I want to leave. I don't like it here very much. More of the people here are like Maya than like you, and she yells too much. How can we leave?"

They were uncomfortably close to the Telepath's barracks. Brad hesitated before answering in a careful tone. "Well, I don't think it's really possible to leave here."

"Yeah you do. I saw it in your head. You know how to leave, and you want me to help you, and you're going to help me. So how do we leave?" He asked.

"It's not that simple." He bent down to be on eye level with the boy, who was rather short, even for a ten year old. "It's very dangerous to even think these things. The people here would kill us for talking about it, people like Maya. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded. "Don't worry though, they won't be able tell you're thinking about it anymore." He reached over and tapped Brad's temple with his finger. "I know how to keep people out. I'm really good at it too. And I can keep a secret. So you keep thinking about how to get out, and let me know how to help, okay?"

Brad was dumbfounded. "O-okay. Sure. And maybe we can find a way to get your German and your name back for you."

The boy smiled. "That would be good. I can kind of feel my name on the back of my mind like it's itching me, but I can't get it."

"Well we need something to call you in the meantime." Brad said, as they resumed their walk to the barracks. He was still thinking of Darren, there was something about the kid's mischievous smile and goading attitude towards Maya that reminded him of his little brother.

The boy scrunched up his face, obviously thinking really hard, possibly trying to grab that tickling thought from the back of his consciousness and force it forward. Finally he said something. "Schuldig."

"Pardon?"

"Schuldig. It means guilty, and right now it's the only bit of German I can remember, so that's got to count for something."

"I don't think that's actually a name."

"I don't care. Call me Schuldig."

"So?" eMu asked, looking up from her laptop. "What do you think?" It's not that she really needed her character's approval for the story…it was more like curiosity.

"It sucks." Schuldig said flatly.

"It's what happened to you!" eMu screeched defensively.

"Two chapters and it's all about Brad so far-"

"Hey, you were definitely the star character in that last bit!"

Schuldig started pacing. "You said you were giving me a back story. What the fuck was that?! I'm introduced at Rosenkreuz already with no memory of how I got there? Fuck that!"

"I thought you made a cute little kid." She whined. "And I accomplished a lot, okay? I set the stage for Brad's moral decline, I established you as _amazingly_ talented, for which you can thank me at any time, and I explained the fact that you go by something that is not, in fact, a name. So there."

Schuldig grumbled something under his breath. "I still know German."

"I know, it's coming back. Just not your identity." She smirked. He threw his sunglasses at her, and she ducked to avoid them.

"Well? Keep going! And don't stop until you get to my back story!"

"Sorry dear, I have to take a break and go to work. And then I need to read a few books for school, so I don't think I'll be getting back to this for a little while."

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!!"


	3. Coloring

Chapter Three

"You, Crawford, come with me." A Rosenkreuz Administrator who looked as though he could have easily benched Brad said, after slamming the door open to one of the precognitive training classes. The teacher, Mr. Levin, was left with his mouth hanging open, looking something like a fish. No doubt he'd been ready to say something to the intruder, but had then noticed it was an Administrator. Administrators outranked Teachers, and Teachers outranked Nannies.

"Do you have a problem with this Levin?" The Administrator asked.

"N-no, of course not Mr. Fournier." Levin deferred.

Brad calmly stood up and left the room with the Administrator, and his classmates fixed him the kind of looks reserved for someone they never planned to see alive again. He wondered if, despite his carefully viewed visions for his future emancipation, that they were right. One of the annoying things about viewing the future was that he was always seeing possibilities, not plans. Just because he'd Seen himself defeating Esset didn't necessarily mean he was free from death before that point. The Administrator, Mr. Fournier, could realistically take him into any room in the grounds and slit his throat, and technically his visions would still be accurately defined as 'precognitive'.

But Mr. Fournier didn't lead him off to some quiet room for death. Brad found himself walking the as-lately familiar path to the telepath's barracks. Of course. Schuldig was causing a disturbance again.

Fournier looked down at Brad (by at least a foot), and spared him a grin. "I'm told you're the only one who can control the little terror."

Brad wasn't sure how to answer. This could easily be a trick. Still, he hesitated only a second. "He likes me for some reason. I guess I'm just good with kids."

"Me, I'm not so good. So I asked them who else is good with children. And then Schuldig himself said he wanted to speak with you, and I was told you are actually a precognitive, not a telepath." Fournier snorted. Telepaths, or at least talented ones, were few and far between. Therefore, the ones who rose to rank in the Organizations had a tendency to cop attitudes. Precogs were a lot more common. "But I suppose Talents don't have much to do with baby sitting. Did you baby sit a lot?"

"I had two little brothers and my mom worked a lot." He answered. Normally he didn't like to talk about his family with anyone at Rosenkreuz, lest they seek his family out, but mental images of Darren and Clifford tended to come to the forefront of his thoughts whenever he was taken to see Schuldig, who was increasingly becoming like a third little brother to him, and he had no chance of masking this from an Administrative Telepath, so he didn't bother trying.

"I see. That explains it. I was taken from my family before I could become good with children. I did not see my little siblings for that long. I am bad with children. And this child, he is one of the worst. But he has spirit. You don't see much spirit here." Fournier said with another grin.

Brad nodded. Once again, it seemed pretty pointless to contradict him.

They reached the building, and Fournier waved and nodded at acquaintances as they walked through the hallways. Brad was surprised to see that not all of them, even the inferiors, seemed fearful of Fournier. He was possibly well liked as a person, which was startling for someone who had survived to work in Rosenkreuz.

Finally they ended in a classroom where a whole host of Administrators sat in a semi circle, with Schuldig in front of them. He sat on the floor, cross legged, with his arms folded stubbornly in front of him. A pad of paper was opposite him and a package of Crayola markers. He'd written Arschloch in large red letters. Brad snorted, and the other Administrators glared at him. Not Fournier, though. He laughed, a deep and booming laugh.

"See? I told you, the kid has spirit."

Brad looked at Mr. Fournier, expecting some kind of orders, but none were forthcoming. Schuldig waved excitedly at him.

"I'm getting my German back Brad! I still don't know my name though. So you can keep calling me Schuldig for now."

"O-okay. Um…are you coloring?" He asked hesitantly. Schuldig may not have minded being in a room with some of the most intimidating people in Rosenkreuz, who were all actively hammering at his mind, but he certainly did. Schuldig looked at him with some measure of confusion for a moment.

"Oh." He said simply, and then Brad was suddenly alone with his thoughts. None of the Administrators could penetrate his mind: Schuldig had shielded him again. "You're welcome."

"Take that down this instant!" An ancient looking woman with a prominent hook nose shrieked. "You are not to be erecting mental shields for your friends, that is a protection they need to earn through their own hard work!"

"Well maybe they could learn it a little easier if you weren't always prying, Frau Martins." Schuldig shot back.

"Schuldig…" Brad whimpered.

"What? Oh, right, diplomacy. You were teaching me about that before." He looked at the Administrators again. "That's when you get people to do what they might not want to do by saying things in a special way. Brad taught me that."

"Oh he did, did he? And when did he teach you that?" A corpulent and squat Administrator asked.

Schuldig shrugged. "I dunno. Time kinda runs together in a place this miserable."

Brad could feel a moan of displeasure coming on, but luckily Mr. Fournier cut the tension in the room with another booming laugh. Schuldig smiled at him, but the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. He looked at Brad, and Brad heard Schuldig's voice very clearly in his mind.

_I don't like that man. He thinks really bad things, so be careful._

Brad opened his mouth to say something, but something about Schuldig's expression stopped him. _They don't know I can talk to you without saying it aloud. Don't let them find out or they'll listen in. But you can think back to me._

"What are you working on? Are you coloring?" Brad tried asking again.

"Of course he's not coloring." The hook nosed administrator, Mrs. Martins, snapped. "A roomful of Administrators would not waste their time watching a child color. Honestly, precogs."

Schuldig glared at the woman. "I'm sure it's so much better to sit here and watch me do nothing. Because I'm not gonna do it."

"Do what?" Brad asked.

"It doesn't matter, I won't do it! Not even if you ask me to do it Brad, I won't." Schuldig picked up the red marker and started adding more curse words to the picture he'd started, some in English as well as German.

Fournier had moved to stand behind him, and Brad only noticed when he felt Fournier's massive hand on his shoulder. He was laughing again, but there was something slightly menacing to it. "Oh child, you have some spirit but that's only because you still don't understand how this place works. We didn't bring your friend here to ask you nicely to comply." The massive hand moved slowly, almost like a caress, until thick fingers were curled around Brad's neck. "You will do what we tell you, because we are the administrators and you are an ant. Or I can break this boy's neck right here and now. It is not so good for you to have these friendships if they will make you defiant."

Schuldig capped the marker, stood up and faced Mr. Fournier. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head to the side, obviously gauging the man. "The precog Administrators really like Brad. He's really good with his Talent, just like I am. You wouldn't kill him, because you wouldn't kill me either. We're good at what we do and you need us."

"Child we don't need anyone." Fournier laughed. As if to demonstrate, with his free hand Fournier quickly and neatly broke Brad's arm. Fournier's other hand all the while stayed warningly on his neck. To his credit Brad didn't cry out, but he wanted to. Schuldig's eyes widened fearfully. He hadn't expected Fournier to do that. Schuldig stuck a finger in his mouth and bit down. He looked like he wanted to cry.

"But I don't want to!" He whimpered.

"Fine. Mr. Crawford, do you think you need two arms? Do you think you need your neck?" Fournier asked pleasantly.

Brad's breathing was ragged. Pain was shooting up his broken arm, and Fournier was turning it to make sure he got the full effect.

"No! No, don't kill him. I'll do it." Schuldig said quickly. He closed his eyes and turned to face the other Administrators. "I already did it anyway, I just wasn't telling you. There are four girls in the level three hand to hand defense class thinking bad thoughts about Rosenkreuz right now. Their names are Sinal Sriram, Marya Kvetko and Jane Douglas. There are two boys training with Mr. Suzuki for mental shielding who are thinking bad thoughts. Their names are Jason Redfield and Li Park. And there are three kids in the cafeteria thinking bad thoughts. Kim Davens and Lisette Lamontagne and Hans Spregman."

"Can you write those names down, like we asked?" A balding man with a long, thin nose asked.

Schuldig picked up the red marker and wrote all the names clearly on a piece of paper. He handed it to the balding administrator, and then resumed his place standing respectfully in front of them.

"If I may interject, useful though this relationship is…let's face it, Mr. Crawford has been able to persuade this boy to be…compliant more than once…I find it to be potentially cumbersome." Martins said. "Perhaps we should eliminate the young man."

"I did what you wanted!" Schuldig whined.

"The dependence is unfortunate." The corpulent man agreed.

"Now now people, I don't think this is a bad thing yet. Schuldig is still young, is he not? He is learning. And they are both talented. Schuldig has a will, but this Mr. Crawford here sets a good example. He did not even yell when I hurt him, and trust me it did hurt. I think it is a good thing, if we manage it right. That is why we have let them meet so often, is it not?" Fournier announced.

The two Administrators who had spoken didn't seem to share Fournier's optimistic assessment, but the others all murmured their agreement.

"Now, Mr. Crawford is in a bad way. And we have gotten what we wanted from the child. I think he deserves a reward. Why don't you walk with me and your friend to the medical building?" Fournier asked. Without waiting for an answer he steered the two boys from the room.

They walked a few minutes in silence. Schuldig, who looked younger than ever at the moment, was crying softly. He was fully aware he'd just sent eight people to their deaths and possibly endangered the person who was supposed to take care of him. Brad was resisting the urge to join in. He couldn't find an angle to hold his arm that didn't result in searing pain, and he wasn't quite sure the Administrators were finished with him.

"You boys should be careful. You keep being this friendly with each other, there will be trouble." Fournier cautioned. "But you see I am a fair man sometimes too. You spend the night together in the medic building and you talk about what you want to do, and Mr. Bradley, I think you need to tell Mr. Schuldig there something about how he needs to speak to his betters. You'll do that, won't you?"

"S-sure. Yeah Mr. Fournier." Brad winced.

"I am a little sorry about your arm boy, but I think I made my point." Fournier said slowly. He flashed another large smile at the boys before leaving them with a doctor.

It didn't take long to set Brad's arm, and they even gave him some pain pills. The medics, under Fournier's orders, made the arrangements with Brad and Schuldig's respective Nannies for them to spend the night in the medic building, and they were left virtually alone in a curtained off section of the ward.

_Let's talk this way. I don't like talking so that people can hear us in this place._ Schuldig said, after they'd been alone in silence some time. He wasn't crying any more. He looked more like his normal self, even swinging his short legs from the edge of the bed.

_How old are you Schuldig?_ Brad thought carefully. He'd never tried to communicate telepathically before. It wasn't something precogs practiced at until they started organizing teams.

_I'm almost ten. Although I don't know exactly when my birthday is anymore. How old are you?_ Schuldig asked.

_Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in March._

_Oh. Brad, are you mad at me? Because I'd be mad at me._ Schuldig thought quietly.

_I'm not mad at you. But I think we need to be a lot more careful. I don't want them to hurt you, and with the way you talk to people you're giving them a reason to._

_But they won't hurt me. I'm valuable. They don't have any other telepaths who are as powerful as me, because I'm already this good and I'm not very well trained yet. I've seen it in their minds. They want to use me._

Brad sighed. _That's true. But if they think you're dangerous or more trouble than you're worth, they will kill you. And they can hurt you without killing you. I've been working on a plan. I think I can get us out of here quicker than we'd thought, but you're going to have to play their game. Do you think you can do that?_

_I don't like ratting on people, and that's all they want me to do. All those kids whose names I said, they're all going to die._ Schuldig thought quietly. He looked at his swinging legs and chewed his lip.

_I know. _Brad muttered. _And as awful as it is, if we want to live and get out of here, we're going to have to keep doing things like that. But I think it can be worth it in the long run. I've been looking for some good futures Schuldig, and I think we can take out Rosenkreuz one day. We just need to play along for a little while._

Author's Notes: Come on guys, three chapters in and I know you're reading it! Doesn't anyone want to burst this fic's review cherry? (flashes puppy dog eyes)


	4. Advanced Training

Chapter Four

"Ah, so this is the famous Schuldig. Master Telepath at age twelve. Or, are we sure it's twelve? Can't really tell can we? Heard you lost some of your identity while your telepathy was emerging. That's a shame, isn't it?"

Schuldig wanted to scream, 'who the fuck do you think you are?' at the patronizing asshole. His name was Rourke. He was a telepath in his early thirties with field experience and awful teeth. Brad had mentioned him about a year ago. He'd retired from field work when a target had injured his right leg, and he'd been left with a limp. Now he trained people. Part of playing the game was controlling the urge to swear at his superiors, although Schuldig still refused to think of them as his betters.

"I'm pretty sure I'm twelve." Schuldig responded in an even tone.

"Well I'm not sure I like the look of you. Runty, I think. You're not going to be much of a fighter, I can tell. We'll have to put you to work with long range weapons. You're going to be a pretty one though. Maybe that can be of some use." Rourke said. He'd taken Schuldig's chin in his hand and was turning his face from side to side, inspecting him.

"Pretty?" Schuldig repeated, as he recoiled from Rourke's grip. His roommate, who was watching the exchange from her bunk, giggled. Brad would have stood there and taken it, but Schuldig's instincts still popped up every now and then. "I'm a boy, I am _not_ pretty."

Rourke laughed. "Well you might be handsome some day, but at twelve you're still awfully pretty for a lad. It's not a bad thing, comes in dead useful with some of the targets we have to go after. And you'd pass fairly easy for a girl if you let that hair grow and the target was drunk enough. I think you'll make an excellent assassin. Still, I've got to interview that precog today too. I've heard you've worked with Brad Crawford some already?"

"Yeah, we've met." Schuldig answered.

"Good, good. Well if I accept him too then we'll be on the plane together tomorrow morning. You, me, Sylvia Lin and Blanca Wagner. Training's going to start in Quebec City, of all places. I did my training in Montreal. Wonderful country, Canada. I'll see you tomorrow Schuldig."

"Good night Mr. Rourke." Schuldig said politely. Rourke nodded as he left the small room.

Schuldig's roommate, Yasmine, looked at him incredulously. "You're going to train to be an assassin already? Wow. I bet you'll be at Esset or something in like a year. Remember me when you're all professional Schuldig, won't you?"

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "I'm probably never going to see you again Yasmine. You know, since you're so dumb they're probably gonna kill you within a year."

"They are not!" Yasmine whined. She sat down on Schuldig's bunk next to him, a little closer than he would have liked. His last roommate had been a boy, and he'd liked that better. Yasmine was almost the same age as him, had a crush on him, and he found her infuriatingly annoying. Something about girls just pissed him off.

"Are too. My best friend's a Precog." Schuldig reminded her.

"Yeah, but you're not." She shot back. "Schuldig…""What?"

"Since you're going to leave tomorrow and all…and I'm never going to see you again, could you…could you be my first kiss?" She asked in a small voice.

"Ew, no! Get away from me." He stood up and walked the two feet away from her the tiny room would allow. He wondered if his room in Canada would be bigger.

"Fine, you don't have to be so mean about it. I hope my next roommate's nicer. You're cute and all, but you're a jerk." She snapped.

"M'not cute. Or pretty." He said with a scowl.

"Pretty boy." Yasmine teased. "And it's not just me who thinks so. Even Rourke thinks so. I heard him.

"Of course you heard him, he was here two minutes ago. If I kiss you will you shut up for the rest of the night?"

"Cross my heart."

"Fine. It'll be worth it." He decided. Yasmine giggled, then stood before him with her eyes closed, waiting. He screwed his eyes shut, leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. It lasted a fraction of a second, but he still wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards. "Ew."

"That was quick." Yasmine noted.

"You said you wouldn't talk."

"A kiss that short's only worth about five seconds silence." She pouted.

"Well I'm not gonna make out with you!" He yelled.

"Fine." Yasmine sniffed. She sat down on her bunk and calmly smoothed the wrinkles in the pants of her jumpsuit. "I guess I'll just sing for the rest of the night."

"I hope your next roommate is a leper." Schuldig growled, as she launched into a shrill rendition of 99 bottles of non-alcoholic beverage on the wall.

3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

The next morning Schuldig met a girl who improved his opinion of the gender a little. Sylvia Lin turned out to be a particularly talented telekinetic who also had the attention of many of the Rosenkreuz administrators. She was closer to Brad's age, with a pale heart shaped face, plump pink lips and silky black hair grown to her waist. She was beautiful and sensual and Schuldig made an idiot of himself staring at her. He got the impression she didn't find him terribly bright, and it made him wonder if he was as annoying to her as Yasmine had been to him.

By the end of their flight to Canada Sylvia was irritable, but Rourke seemed in a good mood. He'd sat next to Miss Wagner, the senior precog that had come along to help with Brad's advanced training. Brad would also be working with Rourke on team dynamics. Schuldig wasn't supposed to know anything about this yet, but Rosenkreuz was in the negotiating stages with Esset to transfer Brad as the team leader of an assassin group that would hopefully include Schuldig. Rosenkreuz was pushing for Sylvia to be the team's telepath, despite that being her secondary talent, but Brad was anxious to avoid her for reasons a love struck Schuldig could not fathom.

A particularly roomy car met the small group at the airport terminal exit for the drive to their quarters. Schuldig and Brad were stunned to silence, staring at the first bit of luxury they'd seen since entering Rosenkreuz, and in Schuldig's case the first bit he could remember. Sylvia was quiet too, but that was probably more due to her reticent nature.

Rourke chuckled upon seeing the boys' expressions. "Now, now…don't get too cozy with this. Blanca and I, we're top dogs in this organization, and as you can see they treat the top dogs well enough. It's something to aspire to. But after your training's done with us the three of you go right back to the bottom and have to work your way back up to this level. And the bottom's pretty low."

"Yeah I think we've all seen the bottom. There are outhouses nicer than the rooms at the Telepath Barracks." Schuldig pointed out. Blanca snorted, but Rourke didn't seem to find it funny.

"I see we're going to have to work on the proper tone and etiquette one uses when speaking to a better." Rourke muttered, grey eyes narrowed. Blanca rolled her eyes.

"Now Rourke, there's something to be said for an open relationship with your pupils." Blanca Wagner was a short woman with a kind face, light blond hair and a small smattering of freckles over her nose. Schuldig couldn't work out whether he trusted her or not yet, but he did decide he was jealous of Brad. There seemed to be a lot more nice precogs than telepaths.

Blanca winked at him. ( **bold**** text **indicates the statement is spoken in German, a language the author does not know) **"I like to see a little humor in my kids, but ****Rourke**** here's got a stick in an inappropriate place. Let me know if he gives you too much trouble."**

"What was that?" Rourke snapped.

"She said you have a stick up your ass." Schuldig deadpanned. Rourke glanced at Blanca with a raised eyebrow, but she only chuckled and shrugged.

"I may have. Consider that an impetus to brush up on your German. Honestly Rourke, you've spent the last thirty years of your life either living in or traveling profusely to Deutchland. Did you always rely on translators?" Blanca asked.

"Thoughts are universal." Rourke snapped back.

"Well I have taken the courtesy of learning your language, you might do the same since we will be working together for the next year and a half." Blanca said.

Sylvia, who had been staring out the car window, turned suddenly to face the adults. "I thought this training was to take at least three years."

Blanca chuckled again and cast an endearing glance at Brad. "Well let's just say I have a feeling we might get things accomplished quicker than that."

**"Brad knows German."** Schuldig said to Blanca. She grinned.

**"He'll speak it like a native by the time I'm done with him. And Sylvia here knows six languages already, German included. So we can have a good time irking ****Rourke**** here with it. Look at him ****now,**** did you notice he gets really red when he's annoyed, even when he's trying not to show it?"**

**"He looks like a tomato."** Schuldig agreed. Sylvia rolled her eyes and turned back to the window, but Brad was smiling too.

The house Rosenkreuz had provided for their training while abroad was at least as nice as the car. It was older, and located in the Old City portion of Quebec City, which happened to overlook a hill that was more like a cliff. Schuldig liked standing on their porch railing, because if he looked straight down he could almost forget he was even on a building. Rourke, showing his character again, complained loudly of how inadequate the quarters were for someone of his and Blanca's status. It irked him that there weren't enough rooms for them all to have their own.

"Honestly Rourke, us girls can room together." Blanca said soothingly. Sylvia looked a little put out. She'd been standing close to Brad with a hopeful expression on her face. "And I'm sure the boys won't mind sharing a room. I've heard they're already friends."

"But the indignity that we'd have to!" Rourke exclaimed.

"Just take the master room with the huge private bath, how different could that be from your expectations?" Blanca asked.

"Could be worse, I could be rooming with Schuldig." Sylvia muttered as she dragged her suitcase away. She was so quiet Schuldig almost missed it, but he was still stung. He decided to try to improve her opinion of him.

"Do you want me to get that for you?" He asked, reaching for her suitcase. She looked at him as though he were vermin.

"No."

"Oh. Okay then. What?" Schuldig asked, noticing Brad grinning at him.

"This is a new side of you. If it makes you feel better you can take my suitcase." He offered.

"Yeah, bite me." Schuldig snapped.

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Brad asked as the two entered the room Blanca had designated for them.

Schuldig shrugged. "Four years isn't really that much. Some women prefer the company of younger men."

"I don't know if I'd call you a man yet Schuldig. Runt, maybe." Brad teased. He emphasized his point by using Schuldig's head as en elbow rest, one of his favorite ways to bait him. Schuldig shrugged away with a scowl on his face.

"I'm due for a growth spurt, you'll see. Someday I'll be taller than you."

"No you won't." Brad said calmly.

"How do you know?" Schuldig snapped, and Brad only answered with a grin. "Yeah, yeah, but nothing you See is certain. I could be!"

"No, no I'm sure on this one. You really won't be."

Schuldig flopped onto his bed angrily, and Brad wondered if he'd taken it too far. "You'll be taller than Sylvia." He added. Taking the dazed smile on Schuldig's face for a good sign, he decided to leave it there and went in search of Blanca.

He found her in their empty kitchen, with a pad of paper and a pen in her hand. "Oh, hello Brad. I was just making a shopping list. Do you like Brad, or would you prefer Bradley or something else I don't know about?"

"Brad's fine. Actually I got a little used to people snapping Crawford at me." He admitted.

"Mm. After my training was through I was determined no one would ever yell Ms. Wagner to get my attention ever again. Is there anything in particular you'd like me to get for you at the grocery store?" She asked.

"Not really. This freedom of diet thing's going to take some getting used to after four years without it." He said.

She laughed. "That it will. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes…I was wondering about Rourke. Since we're going to be living with him for the next year and a half…have you worked with him before?" He asked carefully.

"If there's something you want to know Brad, you really should just say it. I know you're good with coaxing people, I've seen you at it. It's an admirable trait. But so am I, so let's save time and be direct with each other." Blanca put the pad and pen on the counter and sat down at the table. She pulled out a chair for him and he sat down.

He hesitated before speaking. "I've Seen some mixed things about him…I'm not really sure how to feel about it, but I have this nasty feeling about him…that he might do something…"

"To you?" She asked. "Do you not feel safe around him?"

"No, it's not me. I…I feel like he's going to do something to Schuldig. And if I don't protect him…It's going to be serious."

"I see. Did you mention anything to the Administrators?" Blanca asked seriously. Brad shook his head.

"I was worried they wouldn't let Schuldig and I work together. And I intend to stay with Schuldig as long as I can. Our strengths complement each other and we trust each other. That's important, and it normally takes longer to cultivate. I don't want to have to start from scratch again with a new partner."

"Too true." Blanca said. "My field partner and I had a wonderful relationship. If you're going to make it in this work you need to know your partner has your back, I certainly won't fault you for trying to keep Schuldig safe. Just keep me informed, I guess. Let me know if you See anything…sketchy, and I'll return the favor."

"Alright."

"As for your first question, I've only worked with Rourke a couple of times." Blanca admitted, but there was something in her tone that made it clear she'd formed a pretty solid opinion on him regardless. "I will say this though, when he's had troubles, and he has, it usually comes down to his being overly fond of luxuries-"

"Like the rooms?" Brad asked.

"That, yes, and pretty young boys." She said, watching his expression, which turned fearful. "I think we're on the same page then. He likes the little dear's hair, something about blonds…anyway, that's something we can have a measure of control over."

"But if he notices, won't he-"

"There's a public pool in a hotel down the road a little ways. They use far too much chlorine. Why don't you kids make use of it sometime? Hair as fair as that might attract a greenish tinge, but then it might not, and you'd hardly be expected to have Seen something that mundane in advance." Blanca said innocently.

"Right. Thank you for your help Miss-"

"Please dear, call me Blanca."

"Right. Thank you Blanca."

"You're welcome Brad."


	5. schuldig & cathedral ceilings equals bad

Chapter Five

"I give up, I quit I tell you! You're the most useless, whiny God forsaken CHILD I have ever worked with in my entire career!"

"He called you God forsaken, did he?" Brad asked.

Schuldig nodded. There was a red tinge to his cheeks, his performance had been so heated. He'd been chewed out by Rourke so much over the past month that he'd become a master at imitating him, bright red face and all. "Then he threw a box at me and told me to leave, so I interpreted that as giving me the afternoon off."

Sylvia scoffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't deign to comment otherwise. She was inspecting her nails with a haughty expression as though actively participating in their conversation was beneath her.

"How 'bout you? How'd working with Miss Blanca go?" Schuldig asked.

"As well as usual, I guess. She thinks by the end of the year I'll be just about at the same level as her, Talent-wise, and after that my training's going to shift over to Rourke for the most part since he's got more field experience than she does. I'll be learning non-Talent related assassin techniques from him."

"So we'll be working together?" Schuldig asked hopefully.

Brad shrugged. "Dunno. Hope so. From what you've been saying it doesn't sound like private tutoring with Rourke is much fun."

"Private tutoring with Rourke is fine." Sylvia interjected. "So long as he isn't tutoring a petulant child."

Schuldig blew a kiss at her in answer, bringing about another scoff.

"I'm going back in the pool. Aren't you going to swim Brad?" Sylvia asked, pointedly ignoring Schuldig, whose eyes were glued to her as soon as she stood up. She was wearing an indecently non-existent bikini, and yet was still somehow offended when he ogled her.

Brad had taken Blanca's advice, and the three of them had spent the brunt of their down time at the hotel's pool. The exercise was having a favorable effect on the two younger psychics, who had both increased their physical stamina from the new hobby. Brad, however, spent most of his time poolside reading and had only gone in a couple times so far.

"Nah, not today Sylvia. Blanca loaned me the Art of War, and I'm really enjoying it. I want to have it finished by the end of the week."

Sylvia smiled approvingly at him. "As you wish."

"I'll swim with you Sylvia." Schuldig offered, rising from his patio chair.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. Your hair's starting to turn green, you should probably take a break." Sylvia cautioned, casting a disapproving glance at Schuldig's choppy chlorine-stained tresses.

He sat down again with a pout, and watched Sylvia dive into the swimming pool.

"Is she always going to be such a bitch?" He asked.

"Yep." Brad answered.

"She's never going to like me even a little?"

"She might a little."

"Why does she like you?" Schuldig asked.

Brad hadn't even looked up from his book. "No idea."

"My hair looks like hell, maybe she's right. It's all dried out and brittle. I probably should stop swimming so much." He considered, tugging at a strand of greenish blond that broke off between his finger tips.

Brad frowned, regarding Schuldig over the top of his book. "I don't think you should stop swimming."

"Why?" Schuldig asked. "You never swim."

"Yes but you like it. I don't see how it matters if your hair turns green." Brad said carefully.

Schuldig's eyes had narrowed. He really didn't understand why Brad was always going to the pool to read, but he decided he didn't care enough to question it. Sylvia followed Brad and there was nothing wrong with Sylvia walking around dripping wet in a bikini. He shrugged, got up and walked over to the edge of the pool.

Sylvia was swimming graceful laps around the side of the pool, and more than a few of the hotel patrons were watching her, entranced by her movements. As soon as she came within a few yards of the spot he was standing Schuldig cannon-balled in front of her, and then swam as fast as he could towards the ladder lest she drown him.

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"I'm not coming down until you take down your shields!"

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL WOULD I TAKE DOWN MY EFFING SHIELDS FOR A DISOBEDIENT SHIT LIKE YOU??!!" Rourke raged.

The kitchen of their flat had cathedral ceilings, and there were large cabinets along one of the walls, almost as tall as the ceilings which were intended to display fancy china. There was about a foot of space between the ceilings and the cabinet tops, and Schuldig was nestled safely in that space. It was beyond Rourke to figure out how he'd gotten there.

"It's for safety! I'm not coming down unless I can see in your thoughts that you're not going to kill me!" Schuldig called. He decided against adding that he was wedged so tight he wasn't sure he could get down without assistance anyway.

Rourke stormed around the room swearing for another ten minutes before he finally got up on a chair with a broom and started hitting Schuldig with the handle.

"Ow! Hey, fuck you, stop it!" Schuldig cried.

"Get DOWN!! GET THE FUCK DOWN!!" Rourke screamed, stabbing Schuldig in the belly as he tried to edge away from the psycho.

"I can't, I'm stuck!" Schuldig admitted. "Stop hitting me! STOP!!"

"GET DOWN SO I CAN KILL YOU PROPERLY!!"

"ALAN!!" Blanca's scream bounced off the high ceilings with a perceptible echo. "What in God's name are you doing?!"

"This has nothing to do with God! That child is a foul demon and I am going to SMITE HIM!!" Rourke yelled, stabbing Schuldig again with the broom handle.

Sensing an opportunity in Blanca's arrival Schuldig began whimpering loudly. It wasn't difficult to fake up some tears either, since he now had several bruises along his exposed right arm and abdomen from Rourke's attack.

Blanca kicked the chair out from under him and Rourke fell to the ground with a painful thud, unable to right himself due to his bad leg.

"You need to develop some fucking people skills!" Blanca spat at him.

Rourke was beyond words. His face was redder than Schuldig could recall ever seeing it.

"He's going to kill me in my sleep."

"Don't give him ideas dear." Blanca replied, and Schuldig gave a start as he'd been unaware of speaking aloud. "You, go slither off to your room you slime, I'll handle your student."

"If you think for one minute I'm deferring to a bleeding sow like you-"

"Do you want him down or not?" She demanded.

"Well how are you going to do it? He said he's effing stuck and neither of us are telekinetics. Although I'm thinking of phoning in and asking for some assistance from a pyrokinetic!" He added, with an accompanying scathing glare at Schuldig.

"Go lay down Rourke, you're giving yourself a coronary." Blanca said dryly.

He pulled himself to his feet and left the room, swearing and grumbling, dotting all nearby surfaces with flecks of spit.

Blanca righted the chair she'd tipped over and climbed on top of it. Far from whacking Schuldig with a broomstick however she simply observed him.

**"How did you get up here?"** She asked.

Schuldig blinked, a little confused. **"I'd show you except it seems once you're up it's ****kinda**** hard to get back down."**

She nodded. Her demeanor had changed entirely. She looked distant and yet interested at the same time. Schuldig tentatively reached out to her mind. He'd yet to try to read anything from Blanca, out of respect for her rank, however he was also extremely curious about what she was contemplating.

'He couldn't have climbed, he must have jumped somehow. Incredible. No wonder Crawford's so protective of him, he's going to be an asset. We have to make use of him while we have him.'

Blanca thought all this while moving around the kitchen, and if Schuldig hadn't been fully aware she was still thinking about him he would have thought she'd forgotten about his predicament.

**"Miss Blanca? Are you going to get me down?"**

**"Huh? Oh no dear, I'm too short. I'm going to go fetch Brad…"** She'd disappeared into the refrigerator and emerged holding a tub of margarine. **"And he's going to grease you out."**

**"Ah. You're not going to tell Sylvia about this, are you?"**

She laughed. **"I suppose it's not a terribly sexy predicament is it? Why were you hiding from ****Rourke**** anyway?" **She asked.

**"I pissed him off again and he was going to kill me. I'm really good at setting him off. I think he hates me more than Sylvia does."** Schuldig mumbled.

Blanca smiled sadly at him. **"****Schuldig**** dear, one thing you're going to have to learn about people is that you can't always take them at their words, even when you can see their thoughts. People are amazingly good at rationalizing their feelings away and basically lying to themselves."**

**"Meaning?"**

**"Sylvia doesn't hate you. She's jealous of you. There's a subtle difference." **Blanca said knowingly.

**"Why's she jealous of me? She's doing way better at her training…"**

**"Yes but you're advancing faster than she did. She is older than you and you've got more raw talent anyway. Besides I think it's not all to do with work."**

Well that was obvious enough. Sylvia's intentions towards Brad were painfully clear, and his continued disinterest in her fueled her hatred towards Schuldig for the favor he was always shown. But that really wasn't his fault. It's not like he and Brad were dating, therefore he shouldn't really have been viewed as a rival.

Schuldig thought over what Blanca had said about people deceiving themselves. **"So…does that mean ****Rourke's**** jealous of me too?"** He asked hopefully.

Blanca laughed again. **"No ****hon****Rourke's**** much ****more simple**** than the average person. He really does just hate you. I'm going to go get Brad. He's sprouting like a weed. We give him long ****enough,**** he'd be able to reach you without the chair."** She grinned.

**"Okay, but be fast!"** Schuldig called after.

He was painfully aware of how vulnerable his situation made him. 'At least she said she wouldn't tell Sylvia about it.'

"Oh this is something. I wish I had a camera."

And there she was. Sylvia stood by the fridge with a carton of milk in one hand, gazing at Schuldig with the happiest expression he'd yet to see on her beautiful face.

"Hey." He said, forcing his voice to sound casual. She didn't buy it.

In fact, by the time Brad and Blanca got back with the margarine she had abandoned the carton of milk in favor of prodding Schuldig with the broom handle. At least she wasn't using the same vicious stabbing motions Rourke had, maybe she did like him a little.

"Sylvia cut it out!" Brad yelled. She dropped the broom with a clatter. She froze, looking at Brad, who looked anxious and angry. She then turned and ran from the room.

Brad got on the chair and started smearing margarine along Schuldig's bare arms. His upper body seemed to be what was pinning him to the spot, as he still had freedom of movement in his legs. Brad didn't say anything. He was however practically radiating disappointment, which made Schuldig defensive. This totally wasn't his fault, it was entirely Rourke's for being such an asshole anyway.

He did decide against telling Rourke to blow him in the future though.

A/N heydo, so i actually just finished writing this fic and it's going to be 11 chapters long, which means the postings will be coming in multiple chapter bursts from now on, like this one. i've really enjoyed working with the youthful Schwarz members, so let me know if you like reading about them! ;)


	6. a teaser and some fluff

Chapter Six

"Well Son, I suppose ye're familiar wit the old adage the Lord works in mysterious ways?"

"But I need more than that father. I don' understand what kind of mysterious ways he meant in takin' my family from me. They weren' hurting no one, but, but them being gone, it hurts me so much. What kind of a God would wan' ta do something like that to me?"

"Now Son, God knows what you need sometimes even when ye can't see the reason in his ways. It's not for us to question."

"So God wants me ta suffer? But you people were always sayin' God loved me."

"He does my child. God loves everyone-"

"But he killed my family! He can't love me and let them die!"

"Now Son, God didn't kill your family. It was the hand of a man that did the killin'. And that man was a sinner and will suffer for his wicked ways-"

"I don't care about that! If God can send down plagues and make his Son rise from the dead and bring on a flood to kill the world then why couldn't he protect my parents and my wee sister from one fuckin' burglar? He could, that's the answer, and he didn't and I just don't understand why!"

"Now there child, I know you're hurtin'. An' ye'll work through this in time. It's best if you find comfort in the Lord and move away from ye're anger. Say prayers for your parents and your wee sister and they'll watch over ye for the rest of your life. Let them be your saving grace."

The boy seemed to consider. He looked at his hands, which were curled in his lap to hide the red.

"You know what Father? You're the first priest I've talked to that's said that to me. So ye think maybe the Lord took my family so they could watch over me?"

The priest smiled, believing he was finally getting through to the troubled youth. "I can't claim to fathom the Lord's reasons for doing what he does, but I think it's a possibility. An' if ye can find comfort in the passing of loved ones then it's for the best. Do ye see son?"

The boy's lips were curled into a smile. He opened his hands and for the first time Father Doherty was able to see the flakes of brownish red clinging to the palms. The young priest took a tentative step back as his young parishioner reached into his pocket and extracted a blade.

"I think it's a sick joke to put people on this earth to care about, and then yank them away before you're ready for the partin' of them. I think it's the cruelest thing ye can do ta someone, and ye say God loves me. But I can' believe that, because if God loved me he'd want me ta be happy. And right now the on'y thing that makes me happy is bathin' in the blood of his shepherds."

Brad's vision broke off as the priest's jugular was slashed with amazing speed and dexterity. Despite the horrible contents of the vision, he couldn't suppress a feeling of awe at witnessing the boy's skill. He still didn't know what the troubled young man's name was, but Blanca had promised to help him with that.

Brad took a moment to clear his head and reorient to his surroundings. He was sitting in the living room of the Quebec City flat. It was quiet for once. Blanca was in the kitchen making tea, Sylvia was reading in the girls' room and Schuldig was getting private lessons from Rourke in the elder telepath's room. And for once neither of them were screaming.

Brad had staked a claim on the living room. He'd put on a Hindustani CD, moved the coffee table out of the way and set himself up in the middle of the room with his meditation cushions. He'd been conducting a sort of psychic audition for potential teammates with his free time for the past few days. Visions of the Irish boy kept coming back, and the few he'd seen of the boy as a teen and member of his team had been promising. For one thing he seemed to get along with Schuldig, which was a bit of a stumbling block for most of his candidates. Schuldig was proving to be difficult to get along with, and all indications from the future said it was only going to get worse.

Brad stretched, and decided to wheedle some tea out of Blanca. He would definitely miss the comforts of Advanced Training. Blanca bought some excellent tea, tea he would certainly miss when he was thrust to the bottom of Esset's food chain.

"Yours is in the blue cup." Blanca said automatically upon Brad's entrance. She was stirring an orange mug, and there was a green one beside it. "Sylvia will be out in a few minutes." Blanca explained, indicating the third mug.

"Ah."

"Are you still looking at the boy who kills the priests?" Blanca asked.

Brad nodded and she frowned. "He's skilled and he'll get along with Schuldig." He said defensively.

"Well I suppose that is a talent." Blanca said with a small smile. "But still Brad, he's awfully unbalanced and still so young. And I don't See that pain getting any easier to deal with. You might have less trouble with a more stable teammate."

Brad shrugged. "I just have a good feeling about this one. I had a good feeling about Schuldig too, and he's unbalanced but you still approve of him."

She laughed. "Yes well Schuldig's special and we both know that." She shook her head, bemused. "I worry about you two sometimes though."

"That you do." He said quietly. The unspoken question was implied.

Blanca grinned. "Let's just say I'd like to see you succeed…in life…and leave it at that. Ah Sylvia, your tea's in the green mug dear."

Brad stared at Blanca, wanting to press her but he didn't dare with Sylvia standing in the doorway, not when he'd Seen how loyal she would prove to be to Rosenkreuz. Had Blanca meant to imply that…did she know what he was planning? Why wasn't he dead?

"Thank you Miss Blanca." Sylvia said, taking a sip. "What were you talking about, if you don't mind my asking? I caught the end of it."

"Oh just the future. Can't help it, us precogs you know. We're all obsessed." Blanca said with a wink.

"Anybody's future in particular?" Sylvia asked with a smile in Brad's direction.

He stalled by taking a large gulp of tea that burned his throat. Blanca came to his rescue.

"Actually next week's future particularly. At least that's something I need to talk to you kids about. I've just done your reviews with our contacts in the main office and between your combat skills," she said with a nod towards both teens, "and Schuldig's incredible agility which we witnessed the other day with the cabinets we've come to the conclusion you kids are ready for some practice on the field."

"Really?" Sylvia's eyes lit up.

"Schuldig's ability to scale several feet of smooth glass was the detail that won them over. Next week Rourke and I have a hit. You, however, will be doing all the work. We'll be there to help you if you get in over your heads, but for the most part this is your mission. You three will work together and dispose of our target. Sound good?" She asked, a proud, maternal sort of smile on her face.

"Of course! I can't believe you think we're already ready. I mean, I mean of course we are." Sylvia's tone was subdued, but her eyes were alight, betraying her emotion. "When are we going to get the background on the target?"

"Tomorrow night. Rourke and I have files to put together for you, we'll leave them on your beds."

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"They seem to have me mistaken for a human cockroach."

"Or a contortionist." Brad argued. "Which you almost are."

"I don't contort. I jump. Those two things are completely different. Brad I'm gonna break my neck." Schuldig whined.

"No you aren't. Go to sleep."

Schuldig's answer was to get out of his bed and sit down at the end of Brad's, bouncing up and down. To say the preteen was jittery was an understatement. The precog considered using his Talent to check if someone in the house had introduced him to espresso, but he didn't think anyone was that stupid and besides, Rourke was the only one who drank the stuff. The senior telepath would just as soon offer Schuldig a tasty and expensive drink as take a vow of poverty. No, Schuldig pre-mission jitters were simply more extreme than a normal person's, just like almost everything about the kid.

"Schuldig neither of us are going to be able to function very well tomorrow without sleep." Brad pointed out. He was answered by having his glasses thrown at his head and the lights flicked on.

"I can't sleep."

"So I can't either then?"

"Exactly." Schuldig said brightly. "Glad we can see eye to eye on that."

"We don't." Brad answered, whacking Schuldig with a pillow. "Get off my bed and go to sleep!"

Schuldig frowned, turned the lights back off and started pacing the room. Brad rolled over, but had hardly managed to close his eyes before he felt breath against his ear and was aware of the proximity of a body to his. "What?"

"I'm nervous." Schuldig admitted. He'd been leaning over Brad, but when he knew he had the older boy's attention he settled down next to him, head propped up on his hand and straggly green hair falling onto Brad's pillow.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. Blanca and Rourke are going to be there with us and if anything goes wrong they can help us." Brad reminded him.

Schuldig's nose scrunched up in distaste. "Excuse me if the prospect of Alan Rourke rushing to my rescue is less than comforting."

"You don't like him, do you?"

"Neither do you. Neither does Sylvia, but she pretends to, to look better than me. Everyone hates him." Schuldig complained.

Brad finally sat up and reached for his glasses again. He'd resigned himself to the prospect of a long conversation with Schuldig whether he wanted it or not, and decided he was sick of talking to a pale-ish green topped blur.

"I don't really hate him, but I am glad not to work with him very much."

"I work with him every day and he hates me as much as I hate him." Schuldig bit his lip and looked towards the ceiling for a second before continuing. "How much longer are we going to be here? Are we really gonna be done in a year like Blanca says?"

"I think so." Brad answered slowly. "If tomorrow night goes really well we can be out in less time, but if it doesn't…things are a little murky but I think it might extend our time here-"

"Fucking great, extra training in fucking Canada with motherfucking Rourke." Schuldig scowled, venom in his tone.

"I actually like it here. You don't like Canada?" Brad asked, hoping to change the subject at least a little. Talking about Rourke with Schuldig always gave him a sinking feeling. But as far as he could tell the man was only training Schuldig interspersed with death threats. The green hair seemed to have done the trick, because neither he nor Blanca had had any troubling visions since Schuldig had taken up swimming.

"Canada's okay." Schuldig admitted.

"Well where do you want to go?" Brad asked.

Schuldig thought for a minute. "Not Germany…I know it's my home but I want to stay as far away from Rosenkreuz as I can…what about your home? What's America like?"

"It's actually a lot like Canada. I think that's why I like it here. The part I'm from has roughly the same seasons and some of the buildings look the same." He explained.

Schuldig looked confused. "Doesn't all of America have the same seasons?"

"No, it's a very big country. Some parts are hot year round and the seasonal changes are very subtle, so someone like me would just call it summer all year. In some parts it rains more than others, some places get snow in the winter, some don't-"

"But you're from someplace with snow?" He asked.

Brad nodded. He smiled, thinking back on his hometown. "I was lucky, we had snow in the winter, and we had a real spring and a summer…and then in fall the leaves change color and it's so pretty that people from other parts of the country actually drove to my town just to look at the trees. We thought they were crazy, but now I really miss the leaves. We were by the ocean too…used to spend almost every waking moment of the summer with my mom at the beach."

Brad continued reminiscing, Schuldig occasionally contributing polite questions. He couldn't remember a home or past beyond Rosenkreuz, so for the night he borrowed Brad's. He slipped into his friend's mind and wrapped himself in the sensation of salt water sprays and apple cider and the smell of autumn leaves and a multitude of other pleasant stimuli.

They drifted off at some point, and in the morning Schuldig woke up still in Brad's bed. He'd curled against the precog at some point and woke with his head resting on Brad's shoulder and one arm flung over his chest. The teen was sleeping, head turned away from Schuldig but he could still make out a small smile on his lips. He was probably dreaming about his home, since they'd talked about it for so long, because Brad didn't often smile when he slept. Schuldig had asked once, and Brad had explained that his visions usually persisted into his dreams, and the future still wasn't looking very pleasant.

But the thing about clairvoyance was that it could work backwards too. Rosenkreuz and Esset psychics were generally concerned with the future, so they trained their minds on that and that alone. However clear seeing involves seeing what is generally not known, whether it be the unknown past or present or future. His mind was trained to urge on visions of the future, but visions of the past weren't infrequent.

Schuldig closed his eyes and drifted into Brad's mind where, sure enough he was Seeing something completely irrelevant to the eventual downfall of Esset and the events thereafter.

He could see a backyard that was at least a couple of acres, with a swing set and sandbox and a few scattered trees that had accumulated enough leaves throughout the year to coat the yard with a golden carpet. A preteen with messy black hair and light brown eyes was raking up a pile and a five or six year old was laughing as he crushed leaves in his chubby hands. After the preteen had raked up a substantial pile he picked up his brother (somehow Schuldig knew they were brothers) and jumped into the leaves with him. They flailed around in the pile and it quickly scattered over the yard again. After a few minutes a tall man with blond hair, glasses and Brad's slender but strong build and authorative stance approached them.

"Your mother's here boys. Time to go home."

"Can't we play here a little longer Richard? There aren't any leaves at Mom's house." The preteen asked.

"Nope. It's Sunday, weekend visit's over. Sorry boys but your mother wants you back. I gave her some money so maybe she can take you out for pizza or something." The man answered.

Scowling, the preteen stood up with his hands on his hips. He looked at his brother. "C'mon Cliff, your Dad's kicking us out."

"I'm not kicking you out Darren, I just…" But he couldn't finish that sentence, although Darren waited patiently for a response.

"I thought so. See you in two weeks Richard."

Schuldig was pulled from the dream as Brad woke up, and his consciousness was thrust very rudely back into his own head.

"What were you doing?" Brad asked, sitting up suddenly. Schuldig almost fell onto the floor as he'd had most of his weight resting on the precog.

"Nothing." He said innocently.

"No, that was something. That was an _invasion_." He spat.

"So…you're not going to tell me who those kids were, are you? Because I thought one of them was you but then they had different names-"

"Get off of my bed Schuldig. Just-just get away from me. Go bother Rourke for awhile."

Schuldig's eyes welled. He jerked backwards, then gave up regaining his composure and ran from the room. He almost ran headlong into Sylvia, who'd been approaching their room with a mug of coffee and her copy of the mission file.

"Oh dear, the two of you aren't fighting, are you?" She asked with a superior smile.

**"****F****uck off you fucking whore!"** Schuldig spat and continued for the bathroom, rubbing his side which he'd bumped in the doorway to avoid Sylvia's mug of hot coffee.

Sylvia shook her head, wondering what had Schuldig so rattled. She dismissed it as his general instability and knocked on the bedroom door. "Brad? Are you up? I made you some coffee."

"I'm up." He opened the door, still in pajamas with his glasses in one hand as he rubbed his eyes tiredly with the other. His bangs were sticking almost straight up in the air. Sylvia couldn't keep the smile off her face. The object of her affections just looked too cute in the mornings.

"Did you and the tiny terror have a fight?" She asked, strolling into the room. She had remained in her pajamas as well, though they were a lot skimpier than Brad's flannel PJ pants and baggy t-shirt. She was wearing cotton short shorts and a hot pink tank top. She sat down on his bed and he straddled a desk chair as he sipped the coffee.

"You really should stop mocking Schuldig about his height. You're not growing much more but he is."

"He's still going to be short though, isn't he?" She asked.

"You're going to be shorter. Even in heels. Thanks for the coffee, this is good."

"You're welcome." Aware that she hadn't gotten an answer to her question, she pushed on nonetheless. "Are you excited about tonight?"

"Hmm? Oh, oh right." He shook his head as though to clear it. "I suppose a lot hinges on this."

"Does it?" She asked.

"Well if we want everyone to continue thinking we're all prodigies we need to pull off a spectacular first mission." Brad answered carefully. "What's so funny?"

"It's hard to take you serious with that cowlick dear." She finally admitted.

He self-consciously swiped at his hair and only succeeded in making it worse. "Sorry then."

"I think it's cute." She said with a warm smile. He grinned sheepishly.

When Schuldig was around it was easy enough to remember Sylvia would betray his plans in a heartbeat to any Rosenkreuz official, but when they were alone it was completely different. Instead of an ice-queen and bitch she was almost a normal enamored teenager. He wondered sometimes if he'd been left to his normal life would a girl as pretty as Sylvia bother with him? Maybe he should feel lucky.

"Did you want to talk about the mission?" He asked, in hopes of getting the conversation onto something professional. He determinedly kept his eyes on hers as opposed to her shapely and very naked legs.

She sighed, mentally cursing Brad's self control. It shouldn't take this much effort to seduce an eighteen year old male, but apparently Brad Crawford wasn't subject to the typical raging hormones of his peers.

"Sure. I think it's going to be easy enough, but I question the wisdom of giving such an active role to Schuldig."

"Is that because you don't like him or is there a real reason?" Brad asked with an amused smile.

"I don't dislike him. He annoys me sometimes but generally it's apathy. I just don't see what's so special about him." She paused before continuing. "I do think though, that he's very young and I don't just mean his age. I'm not sure if he can handle killing anyone at this stage without it damaging him somehow."

Brad frowned. It was a legitimate observation, one he'd been turning over since he'd first read the file. "He needs to learn to kill at some point. We are going to be assassins."

"I just don't think he's ready. But I could be wrong, you know him a lot better than I do." She admitted.

He nodded, his expression distant. He almost jumped from the chair when he felt Sylvia's hand on his shoulder, not having noticed her cross the room.

"Brad…why do you bother with him so much? Really, I mean…he's so difficult and he needs so much attention, and protection. You should devote yourself to someone who's more of an equal." She said softly. She moved her hand to his hair and started smoothing the cowlick. "You wouldn't need to protect me. I can watch my own back."

"Sylvia…you just don't understand it-"

"Then explain it to me." She purred. She put a hand under his chin and tilted his face to hers for a kiss. She smelled like jasmine and lavender and he was very close to giving in, but when he closed his eyes he saw Sylvia in that white dress shooting Alex down with casual, cold efficiency. With a shudder he put a hand on her wrist and turned away.

"Look at me." She pleaded.

"Sylvia please. I'm not interested, I…I'd hoped I'd made that clear." He muttered.

She made an odd noise, some sharp intake of breath combined with a constriction in her throat. Not meeting his eyes she took the mostly empty coffee mug from him and left for the kitchen.

A/N Please forgive me for my pathetic attempt to write a pseudo-Irish dialect. It helps me remember that Farf is in fact, Irish, because there certainly is no way to tell in the canon material besides the penguin-mother.

Yeah, this chapter was mostly fluff and background, sorry about that but I am kind of a chick-flick writer. More plot coming soon (if you can call this rambling shit plot), so please don't give up on the fic!


	7. Intermission

A/N and now we get a glance at the time difference between when I write this stuff and when I actually post it. Yeah, dates and seasons are actually pretty current. Mentioned fall in the last chappie because it was late summer moving towards fall and I was getting sentimental. Then this intermission came out in October and I finished writing this story this past weekend (December). Whee…no one cares. Enjoy the fic, please review, they make me happy and making people happy is good karma!

Intermission

"What. Are. You. Doing?" eMu asked, somewhere between anger and fatigue. She'd just come home from work, and it had been a long shift. She worked at a New Age shop in downtown Salem, and in October that meant work was exhausting and somewhat hellish due to an explosion of tourists. She'd come home intent on sleep before getting up to do it all over again, and discovered that her room was in fact full to bursting with fan fiction characters.

Farfarello was bouncing up and down on her bed annoying her cats, who had been trying to sleep. Tiggy was yowling at him, and Omi was rubbing his belly to try to make it up to him. Consequently Omi's hand was also littered with red slashes since Tiggy didn't seem to want his belly rubbed. Nagi was yelling at Omi to stop patting the angry cat and try the cute white one instead.

Aya was sitting in her hippie chair reading one of her text books, the Aeneid, upon closer inspection. Ken was sitting at his feet eating her hidden pretzel sticks and drinking her green tea.

Then there was Yohji looking through her CD collection. Brad was sitting at the foot of her bed with a book on tarot, a bemused expression on his face. And then there was Schuldig, laying in the middle of her floor curled up in her Batman comforter.

"Yo." He greeted.

"Yo?" eMu asked. "Yo? Why are you all here?!" She screeched. "It's late, I wanna go to bed!"

"It's only nine thirty. Forty. Whatever, it's still early." Omi argued. "Schu-Schu-kun mentioned you were writing fan fiction again and we were all curious. We wanted to read it."

"You can't-"

"But you let us read it last time." Ken whined.

"You are posting it online. Therefore you're letting perfect strangers read it, so you should at least let us see it." Brad said persuasively.

eMu groaned. "As of this writing I have not posted it yet so your point is moot."

"Are you trying to tell us you're not intending to post this?" Yohji asked. "Ever? C'mon, I think we have a right to read it."

"Oh you're not even in it yet. I haven't mentioned the Weiss at all. Wow. Actually that's kind of sad, isn't it?" She realized.

The Weiss didn't seem at all bothered by the statement. "Having the attention of our Gods isn't all that great anyway, they tend to like to torture us for some reason." Omi said.

"So…this story is about Schwarz torture then? Oh, so that's supposed to make us not want to read it? C'mon…you can call it my birthday present." Ken said, offering her a can of her own green tea.

"I said no! It's not like my other fics, it's a lot more personal and it would be an invasion of you guys' privacy if everyone got to read it."

"It wouldn't be an invasion of all of our privacy…" Ken said.

"Just ours." Schuldig finished.

"Exactly. And who cares about sister-killers like you anyway?" Omi said brightly.

"Don't you mean cousin, you sick little fuck?" Schuldig spat. Omi and Schuldig both jumped to their feet. eMu screeched as her laptop was lying on a pile of books very near them.

"Nagi! Help!" She squealed.

Nagi rolled his eyes, and Schuldig and Omi were both pinned to separate sections of the ceiling.

"EEEEE!! LEMME DOWN, LEMME DOWN!!" Omi screeched.

"Oh yeah, I forgot we gave you a fear of heights. Nagi let him down." eMu said, and Omi was floated gingerly to the bed, where the white cat, Rosie, licked his hand. He patted her gratefully and put a hand to his head.

"Hey! What about me? I might not have a phobia but this ain't exactly pleasant!" Schuldig snapped.

"Can you be civil?" eMu asked.

"You know better than to ask something like that." Brad said as he turned a page in the tarot book.

"Can you be more civil than you were before Nagi pinned you to the ceiling?" eMu corrected.

"Maybe. Can we read the fic?" He asked. "You already let me read the first part anyway."

"That I did…" eMu trailed off. There were certain things about his life that Schuldig didn't like, and he couldn't tell for the large part if they came from Project Weiss and Koyasu Takahito or eMu. She didn't like the idea of letting him know which things were products of hers.

"It's totally not fair if Schuldig gets to read it and we don't!" Nagi interjected suddenly. Similar protests came from her other fan fiction characters until she had to hold up her hands and scream to be heard.

"Fine! You guys can read what I write as I post it!" She said.

"I guess that's fair." Ken muttered.

Once again she had to hold back an evil giggle. Clearly they didn't realize how slowly a college student with a part time job could post.


	8. Mission

A/N : **_-Telepathy- _ **Sorry I've taken so long to update. More to come soon, hope you like it! If you do (and even if you don't) please leave a review!

Chapter Seven

"You look like a total dork." Schu snorted.

"Shut up. Blanca said I couldn't wear a Nirvana t-shirt for this." Brad answered, adjusting his shirt collar. In addition to the collared shirt he was wearing a pair of black dress pants, however for the sake of practicality he'd insisted on keeping his sneakers. "Besides, it's not like your outfit's any better."

"True, but I didn't pick it out." Schuldig answered with a scowl, picking up the padded training bra he'd yet to put on, distaste evident. "I'd always thought Rourke was just trying to piss me off when he kept saying I'd pass for a girl. Do you think I look like a girl?"

"…I choose to remain diplomatically silent on that." Brad finally muttered. Schuldig flung the training bra at him. He was already wearing the pleated skirt and sweater vest portion of his outfit. Why he had to be in a schoolgirl outfit was beyond him, but he didn't put it past Rourke's sick imagination.

"So are you wearing a wig or going natural?" Brad asked, ruffling Schuldig's hair. The green had started to fade somewhat but it was still obvious in good lighting. Schuldig's scowl managed to deepen.

"Natural." He answered in an acidic tone. "Rourke says they can spot a wig. He thinks my hair is long enough for pigtails but I'll fucking kill him now if he tries to make me wear those plastic bunny barrettes."

Brad snorted, but he was starting to feel uneasy. "It does kind of go with the territory. Assassins cross-dress all the time. I'm sure I'll have to do it eventually and you'll get to rip on me. Feel better?"

"No. You'll make an ugly girl though."

"Because it's so much better to make a pretty girl?" Brad returned.

"Fuck you!"

Sylvia silenced anymore potential bickering with her entrance. Her outfit suited her much better than either of the boys, who both felt awkward for different reasons. Her outfit consisted of tight fitting leather pants with shurikens buckled to the fronts of her thighs for easy access. She was wearing stiletto heeled boots and a tight blank tank top. Her hair had been braided and twisted into a tight bun. A small smile graced her full little lips as she took in the dumbstruck boys. Suddenly the unfamiliar dress clothes and the school girl skirt felt even more unnatural to both of them.

"Schuldig, do you need help with your makeup?" She mocked.

Schuldig frowned, looking almost pained. "Thanks Syl, you're always so understanding. I don't wanna fucking do this, tell Blanca I need more training first." He snapped as he ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. They heard the lock click into place.

"Good job Sylvia. God, has anyone told you how much your people skills suck?" Brad snapped. She looked taken aback.

"_My_ people skills? Have you _seen_ Schuldig?!" She asked, voice growing shrill.

"Never mind, just go. I'll try to fix this. Why don't you finish getting ready, you look like you've forgotten some of your outfit." He said as he headed towards the bathroom door.

"Wow. Why I'm wasting my time on you is beyond me." She muttered as she stalked towards her and Blanca's room.

"Schuldig." Brad knocked softly on the door.

"I'm not doing it. You're what, five years older than me? Why can't I wait another five years for my first job?" He asked.

"Six years, actually and you know why. Do we have to have this conversation with the door between us? Sylvia's gone." Brad informed him.

**_I know. You're a jerk, by the way._**

"Sorry. I'd trade places if I could. But seriously, we need to get ready to go. Schuldig just think, if this goes well we can cut our time in Advanced training in half." Brad didn't mention that he and Blanca had been counting on that when she gave their initial year and a half estimate.

"Fine. I'm ready." Schuldig opened the door, and Brad did a double take. He'd obviously used his speed to finish getting ready while Brad had thought he was sulking in the bathroom. His hair, which was now grown to just barely touching his shoulders, had been brushed so that in poor light it almost looked healthy. He was wearing a headband but his bangs still fell in his face, in an attempt to obscure his features somewhat and keep it hidden a little longer that he was male. He'd slipped on the training bra so that a bit of a chest was hinted below the sweater vest, and he was wearing knee socks and Mary-Janes.

"There. Dial a call girl. Ready to go?" Schuldig asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

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"Is he in there yet?" Sylvia murmured. She and Brad were laying on a rooftop across the street from where the hit was supposed to go down. Blanca had warned them against chit-chatting too much while they waited for Schuldig to infiltrate their target's house, but Brad thought that had more to do with keeping them attentive than giving away their position. Still, trust Sylvia to follow every command to the letter.

"No." Brad was watching Schuldig's progress through binoculars. They only had one pair, as Sylvia was in theory supposed to be watching his back while he watched for a signal. "Wait…he's ringing the bell. Wow…so they really did dial a call girl?"

"Apparently. Let me know if it looks like they're complaining about their butt ugly call girl." Sylvia grinned.

Brad rolled his eyes. "Actually I find it creepy how convincing an underage prostitute Schuldig makes. Did you hear his girl-voice?" He'd practiced it for the other assassins-in-training on the way over.

"Whatever. Did they let him in?" She asked.

"Wait…yep, he's in. Okay, then in the next…what was it, five minutes?"

"Ten."

"Wow. Ten minutes?" He asked.

"What?" Sylvia turned to look at him.

"That's longer than I expected. That's all. Okay, ten minutes from now Schuldig should be killing the primary target and getting to the basement, where he'll have to climb and contort to an awkward angle to let us in through that tiny window because by that time he'll probably have been discovered-"

"At which point we all kill the hell out of everyone in the house." Sylvia finished.

"Right. Okay, so should we get into place now, or?"

"What do you mean? We are in place. Oh! Oh right, by the, the basement entrance?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Or do we wait a little longer?" Suddenly both teens were feeling a lot less calm, and it was hard to fake their detached cool.

"I don't know." She glanced at her wristwatch. "You didn't ask Blanca?"

"No…I didn't think of it." He let out a quick breath. "Okay, I think we should move to the basement entrance. I mean, we were only here to see him go inside, right?"

"You're right. Okay…I'm not nervous."

"Of course not. Neither am I." He lied, about as convincingly as she had.

Sylvia leapt lightly down to the fire escape, to a porch railing and then to the ground almost without a sound. In seconds she was moving across the street and hugging the shadows of a few nearby buildings. Brad followed after her, a little more slowly to keep his noise level down, not being as naturally stealthy as her.

**_Guys? Can you hear me_?**

"Schuldig." Brad muttered. Sylvia widened her eyes, surprised he was stupid enough to speak this close to the target's house.

**_I can hear you. What is it? Are you okay?_**

**_I…no…he's, this guy's really big. I don't think I can…there are guys outside the door. I can't do this, I need help._**

"What is it? I can't hear him." Sylvia breathed next to his ear as they hugged the building.

"He's panicking. The target left some men outside the bedroom door, if Schuldig pulls his gun they'll hear it." Brad whispered.

"Shit. So apparently people have tried to kill him with hookers before." Sylvia guessed.

**_We're by the basement_.**Brad answered, trying to sound reassuring. **_We're going to deviate from the plan. Um…give us a few minutes to think of something._**

**_I don't have a few fucking minutes! This guy is all over me, what am I supposed to do? I…oh Christ he's trying to grab my chest-_** His contact abruptly broke off.

"We need to go in." Brad decided.

"What? But, but the stealth-"

"You're good Sylvia. You can take a bunch of hired muscle men." He said stiffly.

"Are you speaking as Schuldig's potential team leader or his friend? Brad? Tell me you have a vision to back what you're saying." She said harshly.

He clenched his fists, trying to keep his breathing in check. She was right. He didn't like the thought of Schuldig in danger and it was making him sloppy. He calmed somewhat, and one long minute later a vision came to him.

"Brad?" Sylvia asked.

"We go in now, you use your speed and get upstairs as quickly as your can, don't bother with anyone downstairs or on the stairs, let me take them. Get the guys by the door, Schuldig can get the primary target, I'm on clean up. Okay?"

"Got it."

We're_coming in. When I say, kill the target. We've got your back_. Brad thought as loudly and clearly as he could, hoping Schuldig caught it.

"Brad how do we get in? Schuldig was supposed to let us in." Sylvia reminded him.

"The window."

"They have bars on them."

"What? That paranoid-"

"Did you really have a vision or…" She asked, and she looked pissed.

"Of course I did! But the windows I saw didn't have freaking bars!" He hissed. Then something occurred to him. "The garage. It looks like a mini-house." Of course, the guy was loaded, it was actually quite understandable that he had mistaken the garage for the house.

The garage, it turned out, did not have bars on the windows. He and Sylvia crashed through it and true to his instructions Sylvia was through the side door and into the kitchen before Brad had even made it all the way through the broken glass. He ran after her, gun raised and ready.

Come to think of it he'd never actually killed anyone before, the visions he'd had of doing it notwithstanding. It should have been harder, but with Sylvia and Schuldig to think of, not to mention every plan he'd ever made for the future, he found it remarkably easy to pull the trigger as many times as it took, always that one crucial second ahead of every person in the house he came across.

**_Kill the Target Schu, we're here. We've got your back._**

Some of the men tried to run after Sylvia, and those were the ones foolish enough to leave their backs to him.

He finished with the first floor in minutes, but accessed a quick vision just to make sure he hadn't missed anyone. Then he flew up the stairs as quick as his legs would carry him. Sylvia was standing in the doorway of an opulent looking room. Three of her shurikens were missing and she had a long blade at her side, stained red. She'd gone still, and was watching something in the room.

Brad joined her, and gazed past her into the room.

Schuldig was on his knees, a large bruise covering his left eye and almost half his face. His lip was fat and bloodied, and his clothing had clearly been pulled at. The blouse was torn and the sweater vest was gone. The primary target was on the floor in front of him, dead. Only he hadn't been taken out with the gun Schuldig had hidden in one of his knee socks. His head had been bludgeoned and beaten so that it more closely resembled hamburger than human flesh and bone. Schuldig was covered in his blood, and so was half the room. He was still clutching the instrument he'd used, an end table leg. The fragments of the same table were next to the bed, which was rumpled.

"Schuldig…"

"I killed him." Schuldig's voice was distant, as though idly commenting on something he'd seen on TV. Which was odd because even when commenting on something as mundane as TV he still managed to be passionate and whiny.

He turned to Brad, an unnerving smile twisting his bloodied lip.

"It was easy. Killing was easy."


	9. Recovery

Chapter Eight

"Well, overkill sure, a little messy but…you know, finesse will come with time and age. I think it was a good job." Rourke assessed.

"Oh, job well done? Job well done?! What did you do to that boy? What made you think it was a good idea to send him in school girl garb and dear God why didn't you consult me first?!" Blanca shrieked.

"I wasn't aware it was your bloody call what my pupil did! They succeeded, alright? Why does it matter?"

"You fucking telepath, always in the moment, never giving a thought to the future or consequences of any kind-"

"Are they going to stop soon? I have a headache." Schuldig whined. He had a cold cloth on his forehead. The swelling in his lip had gone down, but the bruise on his face still stood out sharply. Upon returning to the house to patch up they'd found several splinters of wood in his back. Brad and Sylvia thought it better not to ask. Schuldig had clearly taken the brunt of the suffering in their mission.

Other than the bruise and the scattered lacerations he looked back to normal. He was wearing PJ pants and an old shirt of Brad's that was too loose on him around the collar and baggy.

"I know you have a headache. You've been very vocal on the subject. And no, they're not stopping anytime soon." Brad answered wearily.

They were back in their bedroom, trying to de-stress from the very stressful outing, but Blanca and Rourke were making it damned hard.

In between guiltily tending to Schuldig's comfort Brad was encouraging visions, sifting about in vain to find something to explain what had happened. The gun had been within easy reach the entire time, in fact Schuldig had pulled it out of his sock in the car. Why had he bashed the target's brains out?

Of course there was an available answer for why, while being pawed at by a strange man, Schuldig had reacted with sudden violence. He just didn't want to face it. The signs had been there the entire time, and he'd been ignoring them. Because if the visions had stopped then nothing was happening. It was easier that way.

Schuldig was likely being abused. He had to face the possibility. But the problem was he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. He was trying to get them away from Rourke, but it would still take time. And apparently he'd already taken too much time.

Schuldig groaned, once again bringing Brad back to the present.

"Do you need anything?" He asked.

"No…I'd like to sleep but they're not going to stop." He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow. The washcloth slipped off his face but he made no move to fix it. "What about you? The job really freaked you, huh?"

"Yeah. I thought…it doesn't matter. As long as you're…well we're both okay, right?"

"Mmhmm. Killing wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. At least I thought so. What'd you think?" He asked.

Brad frowned. "I'm trying not to."

It was far too easy to take a life, and that scared him. It had been unthinkable before Rosenkreuz training. Maybe Becky was right…maybe it was pointless to try to get out. He would be different when he was done. It scared him. He tried to tell himself he would be okay as long as he was still scared by it.

"Then don't think about it. Can you ask them to shut it? Sometimes they listen to you."

"Schuldig, I-"

"Please Brad. I really need to sleep now." Schuldig murmured.

Brad sighed, got up and headed for the kitchen. Blanca and Rourke were both screaming, which seemed extremely pointless since neither of them could hear the other. Rourke's face was cherry red, and a thin layer of white foam had formed along the edge of his lips.

"Excuse me!" Brad yelled. Blanca stopped screaming, but Rourke kept going.

"You soddin' bleeding heart sow! That'll be the day, when I take orders from the likes of some classless frumpy run of the mill precog like you, you fucking bitch!! What?! Why aren't you screaming?! Is it because you know I'm right?!"

"Alan, Brad is here and he's been trying to get our attention!" Blanca snapped. "What is it dear?" She asked, in a much gentler tone.

"Schuldig's got a headache and he's trying to sleep. He'd like you to quiet down a bit. I was thinking that since he's injured it might be a good idea." Brad said flatly.

"Injured? You think that's an injured assassin, do you? Oh wait until you have a real job, then you'll see injured. He just got roughed up a little."

"Have you even seen him?" Brad asked, starting to lose some of his cool. "His face is a giant bruise and I had to pick teeny tiny pieces of wood out of his skin with tweezers. He was manhandled by someone almost three times larger than him, I think he deserves a night's rest. I honestly don't understand why you can't scream at each other in the morning."

"What did you just say to me? Don't walk away you little shit! I am so sick of you effing kids and your attitudes. Come back here and listen to me you insignificant-"

Rourke was abruptly silenced by Brad's fist connecting with his jaw. He staggered and fell over, clutching at his face. Before he could recover and go after the precog the boys' bedroom door had been slammed in his face.

"Brad?"

"I saw that coming. I know I shouldn't have done it, they'll give me hell for it later, but in the meantime it felt damn good and Rourke won't be able to shout anymore. He'll be in his room with an icepack on his jaw for the rest of the night. Happy?"

"Yep. Thanks Brad." Schuldig answered sleepily. Brad waited for him to fall asleep and after a moment he got up and tucked him in.

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"Morning." Blanca greeted stiffly. Normally she was a lot more pleasant with her star pupil. Brad guessed she was a little angry about him punching Rourke. This was confirmed when she placed a plate of slightly burnt toast in front of him. Schuldig was sitting opposite him, and had a big bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar and fresh fruit slices, a blueberry muffin and a plate of buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup. Blanca placed a mug of homemade hot chocolate in front of him before sitting down with her own plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice.

Schuldig looked happy enough, though he was eating much more slowly than usual due to his split lip. He'd stop every now and then, grimacing as something too hot or cold connected with it.

"Feeling better dear?" Blanca asked, clearly talking to Schuldig.

"I guess." He answered around a mouthful of oatmeal. "My back kinda hurts."

"That's too bad." Blanca frowned. "I had to place a call with our supervisors last night and don't get me wrong, they're very impressed with what you were able to accomplish with so little experience. In fact most kids your age wouldn't have survived, especially with the unforeseen obstacles. The Rosen are very pleased with your ability to think under pressure."

"But…?" Brad prodded.

"But it was still a messy job and we are to use this insight in our training. You boys and Sylvia are going to be focusing less on the psychic parts of your jobs over the next few months and more on the physical aspects-"

"Starting when?" Schuldig asked, having an idea of where this was going and not liking it.

"Immediately."

"Immediately like this week or like…like after breakfast?" Schuldig asked.

"After breakfast. I'm sorry hon, I know you're still smarting from last night."

"Smarting? You call this fucking smarting?!" He stood up so suddenly his chair crashed to the floor. He pulled off his t-shirt and turned around so that Blanca could see the lacerations covering his back, not to mention the various other bruises on his skinny arms and chest where the target had smacked him around. Apparently Brad hadn't gotten all the splinters out. Some of the cuts had puffed up and looked irritated, possibly in the early stages of infection.

Blanca's face paled. She looked truly sorry about what she had to say. "It's out of my hands. Orders from the top, you know…"

Schuldig kicked the chair across the room, stalked over to the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. A picture frame fell off the wall.

"He took that better than I expected." Blanca said cheerfully as she sipped Schuldig's cocoa. Her hands were shaking.

"You know he'll heal slower if he doesn't rest, right? Blanca? Some of those cuts looked infected."

"Well then maybe you should have done a better job patching him up Crawford." She snapped, slamming the coffee cup down so suddenly it cracked along the bottom. "Clean up, I'm going to clean the wounds on Schuldig's back. Properly."

Less than an hour later Rourke, Sylvia, Brad, Schuldig and Blanca were standing on a stage of an old playhouse that was scheduled for renovation. Rosenkreuz had acquired it in the interim for training purposes and given Blanca and Rourke run of the place. Sylvia flipped Schuldig onto the ground so that he landed painfully on his back for possibly the tenth time in a row. He was gasping for breath, eyes stinging with tears.

"Fight back dammit!" Rourke yelled. That was apparently his idea of instruction.

Schuldig couldn't answer, the wind had been knocked out of him. Sylvia kicked him in the ribs.

"Now really Ms. Lin, he's already down!" Blanca objected loudly. "Schuldig, come over here and rest a minute. Brad, it's your turn to fight with Sylvia."

Sylvia grinned, stepped back from Schuldig and motioned to Brad. He frowned. Sure, he didn't like seeing Schuldig slapped around by the very adept fighter, but that didn't mean he wanted to face her. He was a physical fighter as well, but in a very different way. More strength and power than speed and skill. She could strike him ten times before he saw her move.

Moments later there was an ugly thud as Sylvia knocked him to the ground.

"What was that, five seconds?" Rourke laughed.

"That was at least two minutes." Blanca objected.

Sylvia pinned him, and she seemed to be taking quite a lot of pleasure in leaning over him, pressing her chest against his. He made a weird choking sound as her long bangs spilled out of her ponytail and brushed against his neck.

"You're blushing darling." She purred. She did a head roll to move her bangs out of her face and quite possibly to look like more of a breathing wet dream, but that move also momentarily distracted her, and Brad was able to knee her in the gut. She fell backwards, gasping and holding her abdomen.

Brad was on his feet in seconds, and when she recovered he was able to catch her arms and pin her.

"And in real combat I could end this by breaking her neck from this position but I shouldn't since this is practice." He said. Blanca clapped. Sylvia was staring at her feet, face bright red.

"Alright. You two try that again and this time Lin, try not to let your hormones distract you." Rourke snapped.

Blanca snorted. "Someone's awfully sore at seeing his student lose."

Schuldig sat down at the edge of the stage, wincing as he gingerly patted at his back. His eyes had watered the last time Sylvia tossed him, and it was taking as much effort as he could to keep from crying in front of the other psychics. Still, watching Brad deal with an absolutely enraged Sylvia, who was completely determined to prove herself after that first mistake, made him feel much better. She really was a lot better at physical combat than either of them.

"Ah! You're going to break my wrist!" Brad yelped, as Sylvia pinned him with another vicious hold.

"Alright Sylvia, back down." Blanca urged.

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"Stop being such a sodding pansy, you can walk." Rourke growled.

Brad was walking with a limp, holding his wrist very carefully and now glaring at the telepath. Schuldig was leaning heavily on Blanca, an arm slung around her shoulders. She practically had to carry him up the steps to their house.

"You try being tossed around by Sylvia for five hours and see how well you fucking walk. Asshole." Schuldig groaned. Brad squeezed his eyes shut, as though that would take Schuldig's words back.

Shut eyes didn't block the next sounds though, which were a startled yelp, a nasty smacking noise and an indignant cry. The yelp had been Schuldig, the cry Blanca's. Brad opened his eyes to see a troubled Sylvia supporting a dazed Schuldig, who had a small trickle of blood coming down his forehead stemming from yet another purplish bruise. Blanca backhanded Rourke, who looked ready to snap. Brad quickly stepped between them.

"Out of the way you Yankee shit!" Rourke growled.

"Step back and cool down or I swear on everything holy I will call the administrators and ask them to send an evaluation team to decide if you need to be transferred off our assignment." Brad threatened.

"Like anyone would listen to you, you-"

"You don't think they would?" Blanca asked, face twisted in a sneer. "After that mission? After what happened with the last kid you trained? You really don't think they'd respond when one of the kids asks for an evaluation team? You know better Rourke. Go inside and take a nap." She suggested.

Muttering obscenities, he complied, although he slammed his bedroom door hard enough that Brad was surprised he didn't break it.

"What did he do?" Brad asked, as Blanca gingerly prodded at Schuldig's new cut. He winced and pulled away.

"Yanked me by the hair and slammed my head into the wall. You didn't notice?" Schuldig snapped.

"Tried not to. So have you learned how to keep your mouth shut yet?" He asked.

Schuldig shook his head, then put a hand to his forehead as he cringed. "Nope. Think I need to get better at ducking and dodging though."

"Go lay down. You kids are going to be hurting tomorrow, yes, even you Sylvia. And you're looking forward to more of the same." Blanca ordered. She shook her head as she walked into the kitchen, likely to fix some tea.

Brad stopped in at the bathroom first, and when he entered the shared bedroom he found Schuldig dressing himself in jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt. He looked almost like a normal kid, despite the bruises.

"Where do you think you're going?" Brad asked.

"Out." Schuldig answered with a shrug. "I've been cooped up or beaten up non-stop for almost a week. You won't mind losing me for a couple hours."

Brad sighed. "Blanca's right. You probably would be better off resting."

"But you won't stop me?" He asked, an anxious look on his face. Brad shook his head. "Good. See you later."

Brad nodded. He then settled on his bed with his hands behind his head and attempted to follow Schuldig via his talent.

In a few minutes he did see Schuldig, but it wasn't as a battered twelve year old with limp greenish hair. He was a bit taller and his frame a bit broader, though still pretty slender. His hair had somehow been stained orange by then. He'd pulled it back from his face with a yellow headband.

Brad tried to guess at his age. Maybe fifteen, sixteen years old? He was walking down a busy street holding a shopping bag. Several of the passersby stopped to gawk at him and Brad noticed that they were all Asian, meaning Schuldig stuck out like a sore thumb. He doubted they were in Chinatown, Esset or Rosenkreuz must have transferred them to Asia.

'If they didn't separate us.' Brad thought anxiously.

Schuldig continued to a very small house, in fact it more closely resembled a shack. He pushed the door open and set the grocery bag down on a card table, removing his coat and shaking out his hair, which was now reaching his back.

"Hey, anyone home?" He asked cheerfully.

'He's speaking Japanese.' Brad realized. In the present Schuldig didn't know Japanese.

A stranger stepped out from a darkened corner of the room. His hair was choppy and pale, his eyes strange looking. One was almost glowing, bright yellow and unstable looking, the other one was dead, dark and unmoving. He quickly slid an eye patch over it, which he'd been wearing more as a headband while alone. Brad recognized him. It was the Irish boy.

"Farfarello." Schuldig said, a smirk on his face. "Where'd Brad go?"

Ah. So he _was_ still around.

"Out. Said it was business. Did you buy any meat? I'm sick of rice." The teen inquired. He was a little younger than Schuldig, but also a few inches taller and a bit broader.

"I only had so much yen to shop with." Schuldig pointed out. "I got some cereal, we should be able to make that last a couple days. So you don't know where he went?"

"He's back." The Irish boy's voice was low and detached. Brad wasn't sure he felt comfortable around him.

Schuldig didn't seem to mind. He brushed right past the kid to peer out the window. Seconds later Brad watched an older version of himself walk into the little shack with a small boy in tow. He noted with distaste that his older self was wearing dress pants and a business shirt with a sweater over it. Clearly he'd be sacrificing comfortable clothes in the future.

"Hey Crawfoo. Farfarello said you were out on business, so what's that?" Schuldig asked.

"This is Nagi. He's going to round out the team. Nagi this is Schuldig, he's been friends with me for a long time now. And this is Farfarello." The older Brad introduced.

The little boy was shaking, whether from fear or cold was hard to tell. The Brad from the present wished his older self would take off the sweater and give it to Nagi, but the Brad in the vision didn't, and there was no way to make him. Nagi's eyes widened when he saw Farfarello; he looked terrified of him. Which was understandable, Brad felt pretty uneasy about him too.

"What's he do?" Schuldig asked, looking haughty and unimpressed. Brad was reminded of Sylvia.

"Nagi's telekinetic. He's going to be very powerful, but I think it's for the best if we can keep him out of Rosenkreuz-"

"Which means we'll have to train him? God Crawford, none of us are telekinetic. How the hell are we supposed to pull that off?" Schuldig snapped. The older Brad looked a lot more annoyed than the younger one would have felt.

"You spent enough time living with and training with a telekinetic to pick up a few things. We can handle it. Why don't you help him settle in?"

"Fine. Settled." Schuldig waved a hand. "You can sleep on the floor kid, we don't have room for you. From the looks of it though just having a roof is an improvement from what you've been dealing with."

Nagi sniffled and rubbed his nose with his sleeve. He really did look like he'd been living in a cardboard box.

"We have a bathroom if ye want to clean yerself up." Farfarello said, gruff voice almost gentle. "It's on'y got a pump an a basin in it though, if ye need a real loo we've got an awful outhouse in the back."

"O-okay. Thank you." Nagi's voice was almost a whisper. Farfarello led Nagi to a closet sized room just to the left of the one they were standing in. Schuldig approached Brad, arms crossed over his chest.

"He looks weak. That and he's reeking of moral nobility. A little bit of a Rosenkreuz breakdown might be good for him. You sure this is a good idea?"

"Questioning me?" Brad asked, voice cold yet somehow still amused.

Schuldig shrugged. "You know I trust you. It's just the kid seems an odd choice, that's all."

"You were an odd choice. Farfarello was an odd choice. Nagi's the first one that's made sense so far." Brad clarified. Schuldig sighed.

"Fucking precog. You'd better know what you're doing."

A/N More to come! - Thanks for the reviews, they are well appreciated, as always!


	10. Snow Day

Chapter 9

Brad was tossing and turning in his sleep. It was hard to tell if it was from a normal nightmare or a vision of something disturbing.

'Good, maybe he won't mind when I wake him up.' Schuldig thought to himself. He was perched precariously on one of the window sills outside their bedroom. Luckily for him Brad slept next to the window. He'd tried getting in through the front door but it had been locked, and Rourke and Miss Blanca were the only ones with keys.

Schuldig started out by lightly tapping on the window, but that didn't do any good."Hey! Brad, wake up! It's freezing out here." He tried, but the precog slept on. He let out an angry sigh, his breath clouding on the glass. Running around Quebec City in the early morning hours in December had quickly lost its appeal, just about when the snow had started. Schuldig wasn't dressed for the winter weather and right now being within view of his warm bed was a mockery to him.

He pounded on the window as hard as he could. Brad stirred but still didn't wake up."Did they fucking drug you?! Wake up!" He yelled. He rested his forehead against the window, one reddened palm touching the ice-cold glass. A startled squeak and thud coming from inside the bedroom made him look up. Brad had apparently woken up, seen Schuldig at the window and fallen out of bed. Schuldig smirked. Most of his face was covered in bruises and his lip was still split. He must have looked like some kind of a monster to someone half awake.

Brad asked him something, but most of the sound was lost through the glass."Let me in!" Schuldig yelled, slamming the glass again.Brad stood up, patted around his nightstand for his glasses and finally opened the window. It took him a few minutes to get the screen to budge, it seemed to have frozen in place.

"Fuck it's cold tonight." Brad swore.

Schuldig snorted. "Noticed. Can you just kick that fucking thing in? I'm getting snowed on out here!"

"You're the one who wanted to sneak out. How's the back doing?" Brad asked.

"You think if I crippled myself they'd give me a cozy desk job or just shoot me?"

"Shoot you. I think I got it." With one more jerk the screen came up and Schuldig slid into the room. He collapsed over Brad's bed, dripping with quickly melting snow. The muck from the bottom of his sneakers seeped into the teen's blanket. "Just make yourself comfortable." He snapped sarcastically.

"I am. It's warm." Schuldig's eyes drifted shut as he pulled the blanket around himself.

"Oh no, get up. Get out of my bed and get changed out of the wet clothes. Now!" Brad snapped, poking his injured back.

"Ow! Christ, I'm moving, I'm moving!" Schuldig objected. He rolled off the bed with the blanket still wrapped around him. Brad pulled the window shut and started rubbing his arms to warm them. It was snowing pretty hard outside, at least an inch must have collected.

"Come on." Brad led Schuldig into the living room, which had a working fireplace that no one had bothered trying to use yet. There was a box of firewood next to it. Brad started stacking kindling in the fireplace. He crumpled some newspaper and shoved it between the sticks and lit it.

"S-shouldn't you use one of the b-big ones?" Schuldig asked condescendingly.

"If I wanted to smother the fire before it got going, sure." Brad answered. "Give it a minute."After the kindling caught he added a larger log, then moved out of the way and had Schuldig sit in front of the fire. He crept into their bedroom and came back with flannel PJs. "Put these on. Last thing you need right now is a fever on top of your injuries."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And you can keep the blanket. I'm taking yours.""Hey!"

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"So if we're snowed in…then that means no training, right?" Schuldig asked tentatively. Rourke's temper hadn't improved any from a night's rest, and he still looked like he wanted to strangle something. Even Blanca hadn't recovered her normally bright mood.

"No, not no training you lazy bastard." Rourke snapped. "We just can't go to the bloody theatre."

"Well we don't have adequate space in the living room Rourke. Even if we moved the coffee table out of the way we still won't have enough room for Sylvia to keep flipping the boys like pancakes." Blanca pointed out.

"So we can go back to psi training. None of them are experts." Rourke observed.

"I don't know…I honestly wouldn't mind calling it quits for one day. Brad dear, I think the precogs at least are taking the day off. Is that alright with you honey?" She asked pleasantly.

Schuldig and Sylvia bristled at this. "Hey! He can't have a day off while we have to work! That's not fair!" Schuldig whined.

"Clearly three years in Rosenkreuz still hasn't taught you jack shit about life and fairness." Rourke answered, a smirk on his face. "Fine. Take the effing day off. You're useless anyway."

Schuldig's eyes widened. "What, really? We get a day off?"

"That's what he said. Now shut up before he takes it back." Sylvia muttered.

Schuldig got up from the breakfast table and walked over to the kitchen window. "I think I'm changing my opinion of snow. Maybe it's not so bad…I want to celebrate. Can I make today my birthday?"

"I don't think it works like that." Sylvia said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but I don't know my real birthday so I should get to pick another one. I want it to be today." He decided.

"He's going to keep going if you disagree with him." Brad murmured to Sylvia, as she'd been about to insult him again.

"I think it's a wonderful idea." Blanca said, now cutting off Rourke. She got up and started poking around in the cabinets. "I should have enough flour…alright Schuldig, would you like a birthday cake or cupcakes?"

"Really? I get cake?" He asked.

"Of course. This makes you, what, thirteen?"

He frowned. "I think so. Maybe. Maybe not. Do I look thirteen?"

"No." Sylvia and Rourke answered.

"You look about six." Sylvia clarified. Schuldig scowled at her. "Because that helps. How come you can't remember your birthday anyway?"

"Fried his own memory with his powers." Rourke answered, ignoring Schuldig who clearly didn't want the question answered. Sylvia started laughing cruelly.

"Some prodigy! Everyone thinks you're so special and you damaged your own brain? That's too much!" Her voice was dripping mirth, one delicate hand covering her mouth as she laughed.

"Shut up, SHUT UP!!" Schuldig screeched.

Sylvia's laughter abruptly ended. She, Blanca and Rourke all clutched their heads as painful memories bloomed before them, eyes shut, eyes open, it didn't make a difference. Rourke watched his mother die all over again, helpless to stop the mugger. Blanca saw her fiancé shot down as the Rosenkreuz scouts came to collect her and Sylvia experienced a traumatizing rape all over again. All three psychics soon sported nosebleeds. Brad was the only one unaffected.

"Schuldig, are you doing this?" He asked, standing up and carefully approaching the distraught telepath. He couldn't tell what was happening to the others, just that it was unpleasant and Schuldig seemed the cause.

"What?" He asked. Attention lost, the others snapped out of their trances. Blanca quickly put a hand up to catch the blood trickling from her nose. Sylvia was crying quietly, hugging herself and Rourke fell out of his chair, scrambling to get out of the room.

"What did you…how did you do that?" Blanca asked seriously.

Schuldig bit his lip. "So I guess you don't want to make me a cake anymore?"

"Oh sweetheart." She stepped forward and Brad tensed, but she enveloped him in a hug. "Of course I'll still make you a cake. I know you didn't mean it. Right?" She kissed the top of his head. Only Brad could see his eyes, and he caught the satisfied gleam in them.

_**You didn't…?**_

_**Well I didn't mean to hit Blanca. But come on, those other two assholes have had that coming. You should probably calm Sylvia down though so the bitch doesn't kill herself. She tried to when she was twelve you know, she was living in a dumpster in Hong Kong and these guys found her and passed her around. And I sent her back there.**_ He sounded proud.

Brad took a step away from Schuldig, who was still being fussed over by an ignorant Blanca. He turned to regard Sylvia, who hadn't moved. Her face had lost all color and her eyes looked dead. He gently touched her shoulder."Come on." He said as she looked up. He led her into his room and shut the door. "Are you going to be okay?"

She didn't say anything. She was shaking. "Syl? Are you going to be okay?" He repeated.

"I tried…so hard…to forget that…I can't…I can't handle that…remembering that." She looked up suddenly, eyes wide and frightened. "Why would he do that to me? I know he did it on purpose." Far from feeling the rage that was her normal response to being injured, she looked lost. Tears were still streaming down her pretty face.Brad cupped her face in his hands and wiped away the tears with his thumb.

"I'm so sorry Sylvia. Do you…do you need to talk?"

Another violent tremble overtook her. "No." Her eyes drifted shut. "I need to forget. I can't think about that again." She fell against him and he wrapped his arms around her. He maneuvered them onto the bed and continued holding her, stroking her hair as he watched the snow drift down.

After a few minutes there was a quiet knock on the door. Brad looked up and saw Blanca's face peering in. She looked concerned. "Is she okay?" She mouthed.Brad wanted to shrug. He couldn't tell if Sylvia was okay, but she wasn't trying to hurt herself. That was certainly something.

"How's Schuldig?" He mouthed back. Blanca shook her head, attempting to convey her confusion. She pushed the door open, and at the creak Sylvia stirred. Brad had thought she'd drifted off.

"I was just wondering if you wanted any tea hon, always makes me feel better when I've had a shock." Blanca suggested nervously. She seemed torn between wanting to run away and fuss.

"Miss Blanca? What was your life like before Rosenkreuz?" Sylvia asked quietly, wiping at her cheeks. Brad relaxed his hold on her as she twisted to face the elder precog.

Blanca frowned. She looked towards the desk chair. "Oh, go ahead. Sit down." Brad waved his hand at the chair. She nodded and sat down stiffly.

"I was just a nobody, I guess. Talent going to waste. I lived in East Berlin with my mother…I know that when I was very young my father died trying to cross the Wall and he took my brother with him. My brother ended up back with us but my father was shot. Well anyway, I finished school but I wasn't going to go to college or anything. I wanted to stay with my mother and be an old maid or something silly like that. But when the Wall came down I found Emil and that changed my mind. We were in love and we were going to get married, but then the Rosen came for me. That's it, I guess."

"You were going to have children with him, weren't you?" Sylvia asked.Blanca looked pained.

"I suppose so. Eventually, yes. Yes I would have loved to have children with my Emil."

Sylvia nodded. "You'd have been a good mother. You're very kind. Too kind."

"I'm not that kind. Not anymore." She sighed. She looked at Brad. "Kindness is a luxury. You were kind once."

"He's still kind." Sylvia objected. She squeezed Brad's hand. "He hates me and still he wanted to make sure I was okay, that I wouldn't hurt myself."

"I don't…I don't hate you." He murmured. If it wasn't for the visions he'd had about her he'd have been more smitten with her than Schuldig usually was.

"You…don't?" Her voice was very small.

Smiling to herself Blanca edged out of the room and shut the door behind her. Still, her hands were shaking as she measured out the ingredients for Schuldig's birthday cake. She wondered if somehow he'd known…December 13th had been Emil's birthday. 'No, there's no reason for him to know…and no reason for him to go looking either.' Consoled, she continued her work on the cake.

A/N I know, short chapter. Wrote this one awhile back between classes, thus the length. I'll probably post a longer one on Friday.

I want to thank the reviewers who haven't signed in (I believe I've responded to all the reviewers who have with the review reply feature, but please correct me if I'm wrong) and since I'm going to post another chapter this week it doesn't feel as cheap to do so now.

Gonyos (if you're still here) thank you for being one of my first reviewers, it was very nice to see that people were reading the fic, although I do beg to differ about the characters being OOC. I think the Schwarz were underused enough in the canon that some of their characteristics are up for debate, plus I'm starting with them while they're particularly young and in development. I promise they'll be more recognizable as the Schwarz we know and love as I go.

Eva84: The stuck-in-cabinet sequence is one of my favorite scenes in the fic, I'm glad you like it. I'll try to keep my author's notes to the beginning and end of the chappies henceforth, although it never occurs to me that those are distracting because of my upbringing with American comics (Stan the man often interrupted Marvel issues to plug other issues, and still might to this day for all I know, I switched to DC). I loved everyone's responses to chapter 8, yours included. Glad the mission came off as suspenseful as I imagined and it's really gratifying to know others appreciate the pathetic amount of time I've spent on character development. Schuldig, Sylvia and Brad are all in states of transition during this fic-if it has a plot I'd consider it their developments as individuals, so it's really nice to see people responding to that. Thank you for your wonderful reviews, I love reading them.

And Swirly, I loved your reviews to my other Weiss fic series, Malarkies and Mayhem, and your reviews here are just as appreciated. I know this fic has a different tone from my other Weiss work, and it's mostly because I'm not working with my fic partner/sister Chikin on these. Malarkies was originally going to wind up more like this. For the sake of clarification Sylvia is not an original character, she's from the drama discs (spelled Silvia in the translations I found, oops). She's a telekinetic who has a history with Brad and Schu, prefers Brad and is really good with martial arts. Schwarz is convinced her team could kill the hell out of them without even trying. Everything else about her I came up with because she wasn't particularly fleshed out in the translations I've read. Blanca and Rourke are original though. By the by, Chikin and I are reviving the Malarkies series, so for anyone interested check out Banned in Boston for updates. -

One other word about reviews (if anyone is still reading this), the review reply feature is so incredibly nifty to me that I would encourage you during your reviewing to pose comments and questions directly to my versions of the characters. I don't know if I'm being overly repetitive here, but I've developed them so fully that I have conversations with them, and you're welcome to do so as well. Schuldig in particular usually cracks me up when he doesn't annoy me (which he excels at).

Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews the fics! See you Friday!


	11. Frustration

Chapter Ten

"I…of course I know where you're coming from, it's just…the Organization wants your team to consist of three psychics: you, Sylvia and a tank. Schuldig is going back to the Psychics Center for additional training and socialization while you start assignment in Tokyo. That's the plan."

"I know. That's why I came to you for help in changing it." Brad answered, idly stirring his tea. Blanca frowned, lost in thought.

"Deviating from their plans isn't impossible, but eliminating Sylvia from your team entirely and taking an excursion to Ireland to pick up an unknown Talent is." She said, shaking her head.

"It's not impossible. I've Seen it, I just don't know how to make it happen. Sylvia isn't going to be in my team. Schuldig is, and so is Farfarello-"

"The Irish boy-"

"Right. And a little telekinetic boy named Nagi. He's only four or five years old right now, but it's not like I'm heading to Tokyo anytime soon anyway."

"If you would consider having Sylvia on your team you could be there by the Spring." Blanca pointed out.

"Sylvia's not going to be on my team."

"Well why the hell not? She's a prodigiously talented telekinetic, and it's not every telekinetic you meet who can access thoughts, however weakly. She's practically perfect with every martial arts technique we can even think of to show her, she's the perfect assassin. And she's loyal to you. Why are you passing on her Brad?"

"Because in the long run she's not going to be that loyal." Brad muttered. Blanca shook her head.

"As long as you behave as a responsible leader, which you will, she'll do anything you ask. She's very professional, and she's got a good head on her shoulders as far as authority and hierarchy goes…unlike Schuldig. You know he's going to have problems as long as he's in Rosenkreuz-"

"Which is why I'm pushing for Esset, who will be relatively hands off with us while we're in Tokyo." He answered calmly.

Blanca shook her head. She still looked troubled. "Well I don't see why you can't have Sylvia in your group in addition to Schuldig. I know they don't get along right now-"

"Blanca, are you going to help me or lecture me to death?" Brad asked. Blanca sighed loudly.

"Fine. I have a meeting with a contact in the Organization in two days. I'll bring up the Ireland proposition, as persuasively as I can, but I wouldn't expect anything this year, at least. I'll have to ask a few times before they consider saying yes. It is an odd request."

"I know."

"But you're already a respected precog dear, I think they'll be responsive enough in time." She put her tea down and walked over to the kitchen window. It was snowing outside. Maybe it was the way the light was hitting her, but for some reason she looked very tired suddenly. The lines on her face were standing out almost as much as the light brown freckles on her nose and there was a grayish pallor to her skin. Her straw-blond hair hung limply around her face. When they had first met, her hair had been healthy and curly and she'd looked very young. Clearly looking after the demanding teens was taking a toll on her.

Brad wondered how old she was. He'd never thought to ask. Come to think of it he didn't know very much about Blanca, but he confided in her more than anyone except Schuldig. He trusted her, and he couldn't quite pinpoint why. It wasn't that she was nice, plenty of people in Rosenkreuz pretended to be nice. There was simply something genuine about her. He'd seen her vicious side before, but as far as he, Schuldig and Sylvia were concerned she seemed sincerely interested in their wellbeing.

Brad's musings were interrupted by a crash, quickly followed by the sound of breaking furniture, and raised voices. It was coming from Rourke's room, where the telepaths had been training.

Brad and Blanca both ran to the bedroom, not waiting for the shouting to stop. They found Sylvia doing her best to restrain a screaming Rourke without resorting to hurting him, but considering his size and hers, she'd have to injure him somehow to restrain him for any length of time. Schuldig was screaming as well, but he was also getting up from where he'd landed after being thrown into a wooden dresser, one of the drawers of which was now cracked.

"I'll do it again, get the fuck out of my head! You don't need to be that far in to teach me how to get past level three shielding!"

"You don't know where the fuck I have to be to teach you jack shit, and you do not get to talk to me that way! Let go of me you witch, I'm going to knock some respect into that effing menace!"

Brad rushed forward to grab Rourke before he hurt Sylvia too. Blanca helped Schuldig to his feet and started fussing over him.

"Let me see your back honey, that's where you hit the dresser, isn't it?"

"I'm okay Miss Blanca, leave me alone!" Schuldig snapped. "Get out my head damn you!" And then Schuldig surprised them all. Normally he focused on getting away from Rourke after he'd angered the man enough to make him hurt the teen. This time he took advantage of the fact that Brad was holding Rourke back to dive forward and hit his nose with the heel of his hand. Rourke's head snapped back very quickly and there was a sickening crunch as his nose was broken.

"Schuldig!" Blanca cried.

Sylvia kicked Schuldig in the stomach so that he fell over, and couldn't do anything else to the pinned man.

Brad tightened his grip on Rourke momentarily, but when it became apparent the blow had knocked the fight out of him he released the stunned telepath, who sat down very quickly on his bed, cupping his hand to his face to keep his bleeding nose from dripping onto his duvet.

Schuldig sat up from where he'd landed on the ground, one hand holding his sore stomach where Sylvia had kicked him, but there was a pleased smile on his face. Sylvia was still poised to strike. She looked on edge, ready to act in a fraction of a second. Blanca was breathing heavily, face white.

"Are you okay Alan?" Blanca finally asked.

"I need to get this looked at." Rourke answered quietly.

"Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?" Blanca offered.

"I certainly can't drive myself."

"Alright. Alright, I'll just…get my coat. You kids should clean up while we're gone. I'll be right back just…please behave." She looked dazed.

"Mr. Rourke, do you want me to get a cloth for your nose?" Sylvia asked timidly.

"Yes, yes thank you my dear." He answered.

Brad finally recovered from his shock. He grabbed Schuldig by the collar of his shirt and yanked him to his feet and from the room. He pushed him into their bedroom and slammed the door. Schuldig stumbled, lost his footing and ended up sprawled on the hardwood floor. He groaned as he rubbed his back.

"Ah! You know I was just thrown into a dresser, right?" He snapped.

"You probably deserved it." Brad spat.

"What? How can you think that?" Schuldig demanded, sitting up gingerly.

"What does the phrase play their game mean to you Schuldig?" He asked.

"Well it doesn't mean let Rourke do whatever he wants with me, if that's what you're getting at. There are some things no one is allowed to do to me, and digging that far into my psyche is one of them." Schuldig answered, venom in his tone. There was a dangerous look in his eyes Brad didn't like.

"Keep pushing him and you're going to be transferred."

"Fine. He can transfer me now just so long as I'm away from him." Schuldig spat.

"Transferred without me!" Brad yelled. "And without me helping you, you are _not_ going to get out of Rosenkreuz. You'll be lucky if you live a year without someone losing their temper and killing you. You are the most infuriating person to be with, you-you live to piss people off, you know that?"

"Brad stop it, you're starting to sound like him." Schuldig pleaded.

"You are though! I mean, every time I ask you to do something you do the opposite! Do you think I ask you to be nice to Rourke for my sake? What he does to you has no effect on me, I ask you for your own sake! When you insult him and piss him off, he becomes more obsessive over putting you in your place. What happens to you is directly your own fault because you can't follow orders."

"Brad shut up! I don't want to hear this from you, you think it enough already and it's not fucking true! I can't do anything to make Rourke stop, he's already obsessed with me and you know what, I'm sick of you going on about how disappointed in me you are whenever I fight back because you'd fight back too!"

"What you're doing isn't fighting back, it's throwing gasoline on a fire." Brad snapped. "Are you crying?" Later on he'd regret how disgusted he'd sounded.

"Well let's see, I got thrown into a dresser then kicked in the stomach and then thrown onto the floor. It fucking hurt you asshole!"

Brad snorted in revulsion. Schuldig was on his feet before he could blink. He punched him in the stomach, which, granted, didn't hurt all that much, but the kid had never raised a hand to him before.

Before Brad could recover from his shock the bedroom door was slammed shut. Schuldig's sweatshirt was gone.

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Three nights later Brad was staring at Schuldig's empty bed, regretting losing his temper with him. It was cold outside, and the city was expecting it to start snowing at any minute. Schuldig hadn't so much as brushed minds with any of his housemates to let them know he was alive, and try as they might the two precogs couldn't find a trace of him in any visions.

The distant future hadn't altered, so Brad knew that in a few years' time they'd be in Tokyo with the rest of their assassin team, but in the mean time he didn't know if his friend was safe.

There was a knock on his door. Brad looked up hopefully as Sylvia poked her head into the room.

"He's not back yet." She murmured, catching the disappointed look on his face.

"Oh." He laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

She crossed the room and sat down on his desk chair. "You're taking this hard Brad. I'm sure he's okay…I don't think you need to be so worried."

"It's my fault. I yelled at him."

"Rourke yells at him all the time-"

"But I don't."

She bit her lip. "I'm glad he's gone. He's starting to scare me."

"You mean because of…the thing with your…"

"Rape?" She finished. "Yeah, mostly that. Although I've noticed he's changed a lot. He used to be so weak, and he's still immature. But he's not weak anymore, which is why I'm not scared for him."  
"But you're worried about what he's going to do?" Brad asked.

"I know what he's capable of." She muttered. "You're lucky he's never shown that side towards you. I suppose you knew enough to befriend him early."

"He's not a monster-"

"He's on his way." She insisted. "I'm sorry, I know you care about him. I'll stop."

"Sylvia…" He closed his eyes, and wished like hell he'd never Seen anything about her. But the visions had gotten worse. He'd Seen them as adults, and he'd witnessed himself shooting her in the face. Now every time he looked at her he was wracked with guilt.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and to tell you not to be too hard on yourself. That's all." She got up to leave. Brad got up and stopped her. He couldn't have told her why, but he didn't want her to leave. Then again he wasn't thinking very clearly at the moment. The more he thought about things the more worried and tired he felt.

Sylvia turned to face him, eyes wide and questioning. She looked almost innocent, and somehow that was more effective than any attempt at playing vixen she'd ever made. Maybe he just liked feeling like he could protect someone.

He pushed her hair back from her face. It was so soft and shiny, it felt almost like a cool satin sheet against his fingers.

He kissed her, not because it was justified by any vision of the future as okay but simply because at that moment it felt right.

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Schuldig walked in some hours later, cold and wet. He kicked his snow filled sneakers off by the doorway, glared at the empty fireplace and continued to his bedroom. He wanted to grab some pajamas, take a hot shower and finally sleep in a warm bed after three days of sleeping wherever he ended up.

He was very disappointed then, when he went to open his bedroom door and it was locked. He hadn't brought his key with him. "The fucking front door isn't locked, what the hell?" He muttered. He knocked on the door. "Brad, lemme in. I need dry clothes."

The door remained closed. He figured maybe Brad was asleep, and therefore the answer was to be louder. He banged as hard as he could on the door, but the door remained stubbornly closed. Rourke, however, poked his head out of his own room and told Schuldig to keep it the fuck down.

"Wait a minute, when did you get back?" Rourke asked. Schuldig was pleased to see the bandage over his nose.

"Just now." Schuldig answered, glaring at his locked bedroom door. "I need dry clothes and Brad locked me out."

"I can loan you pajamas." Rourke offered.

"That's okay." Schuldig refused. "I want my clothes." 'And I'm not stupid enough to voluntarily go into your bedroom.'

"Well that door's not opening kiddo. So you can sleep in your wet clothes on the couch or you can come in here and get some pajamas. It's up to you." Rourke snapped.

Schuldig sighed. He was gross from wandering Quebec City for so long, his hair was greasy in addition to dead and the snow had soaked through all his clothes, even his underwear. He was shivering where he stood.

"Fine." And now he had yet another reason to be pissed at Brad.


	12. New Arrival

A/N hi guys! i'm finally here with that update...sorry, i kinda got into a cycle of rereading and editing. i'm so concerned with the well-being of my fic that i had to be absolutely sure the ending was as good as the middle of it (i kinda wish i'd written a better first two chapters). oh, this isn't the last chapter. um...i think there are at least two more coming if memory serves, but it's winding down.

oh and swirly, your review amused me greatly. i would like to apologize on behalf of brad for his heterosexuality and attraction to sylvia. i like to think i did well with her though, and that she's less annoying than a weiss girl normally is? maybe? maybe? i tried!

Chapter Eleven

"Excuse me son, but are ye lost? Do ye need help wid somet'ing?"

"Huh?" Jei rubbed at his eyes. Oh. He'd fallen asleep at the library again. It was likely near closing; that was the only reason he could think of for the woman finding him in the back of the building. No one ever ventured that far into the building and consequently the librarians only checked back there before locking the doors. It was one of the reasons he preferred that area, that and he'd found a lot of books he'd never seen on the bookshelves at Sunday school.

He'd been reading a copy of Dante's Inferno. He stuck it back into the shelf and stood up, mumbled something apologetically to the woman and headed back to the streets.

A few people stared at him as he walked past. It was late and he was young, therefore he was supposed to be home in bed. Pretty soon someone else would assume he was lost and want to help him, but they never meant it. When they found out he had nowhere to go instead of helping him like they said they would they always tried to bring him back to Sister Mary's Children's Home, and then he'd have to waste precious hours running away when he could be looking for answers.

The first place he'd tried getting answers was of course the church. He'd always found peace and salvation in God's house before the murders, so therefore he should have afterwards. But nothing anyone said ever made the anger inside of him go away, in fact the priests' and the nuns' words only sharpened the anger. Even looking at God's many houses made the sense of loss and betrayal overwhelming. As troubled as he was when he entered, he usually left with a feeling of peace, although also sticky from fresh blood. But the peace was temporary and it usually led him to seek out another church in another town.

He always ended up back in Limerick though, no matter how far away he wandered or how far away he was taken by people claiming to want to help him. He'd lived with his parents and sister in Limerick and it still felt like home. A new family had moved into their house. It didn't bother him though, they never stayed long.

The neighbors always helped the new families out by telling them about the failed burglary that had ended in the murders of most of a nice young family. The burglar had never been caught, in fact the only proof there even had been one was the word of the young son, a troublemaker ever since he'd seen his family butchered, that and the Sunday school teacher. If it wasn't for Sister Ruth, no one would have believed him and he'd probably have been sent someplace a lot worse than Sister Mary's. But he'd have gotten out of there too. No one ever stopped him for long.

Jei sat down on the curb outside his house and watched the new family. He envied them. He could see them through the front room window. The mother was holding a baby girl, a bright smile on her face. A little boy sat at her feet, laughing as his father played a tune on a tin whistle. It wasn't right. It felt like God was mocking him, giving these strangers his home and the life he'd had. He'd show God. No one had the right to mock his pain like that.

He got up and stepped forward. He didn't have a knife anymore. The last time he'd been to Sister Mary's he'd had to hide it so they wouldn't take him someplace else, someplace harder to get out of. But there were always knives in kitchens and he knew every room of that house perfectly.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Jei jerked around, ready to tear apart anyone who dared get in his way, and was startled to see two teenagers and a middle aged woman behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, and no one ever snuck up on him, let alone small groups.

"I don't think you should go in there Jei." The one who'd touched him, a tall, dark haired teen said in an accented voice.

"Why?" Jei asked. "An' how do ye know my name?"

"I know more than your name. I know you're angry and you've been hurt and you've been lied to. I know you like to hurt people, and that you're not afraid of being locked up."

"I always get away." Jei pointed out. People could slow him down, but they never stopped him. No matter how much they punched him or kicked him or even stabbed him, he still managed to keep going.

"I know. But someday people will kill you for what you do. You're still a child so they think they can help you. They think they can heal you."

"They don' try to heal me." Jei whispered. "If they think that they're liars. God will punish them."

"God won't keep them from putting you to death for it when you're a man." The stranger pointed out. Jei knew he was right.

"An what are ye proposing? That I go wit you?" He asked. "You'll find some way to help me, will ye? Well ye know what, people tell me that all the time, an' no one's helped me yet so I'm gonna have to decline yeh're offer."

"The difference is I'm not going to stop you from hurting the liars." The teen said. "I'm going to take you to them."

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Schuldig didn't look up as the front door opened. He was lying on the living room rug flipping through a mission folder and chewing on the ends of his hair. A growth spurt had finally kicked in sometime during the past year, and the legs he kicked back and forth behind him were longer than they'd been the previous winter.

Sylvia walked in first, looking harassed, which seemed to be a common result of putting her on a plane. She didn't fly well, and certainly hadn't enjoyed sitting next to their newest housemate. If Schuldig had looked up he would have caught Brad motioning to her as he entered to pull her collar up to hide the love bite on her neck, but he didn't so he missed it.

"Did we get a job?" Blanca asked, coming in just after their new roommate, a fair haired boy who had a yellowed and gaunt appearance. He looked lost as he gazed around the large house. His eyes finally rested on Schuldig, and he seemed to be judging him.

Schuldig sat up with a yawn and stretched. "Yeah, we got a job. So we don't get to throw Brad that twentieth birthday part you were planning on Miss Blanca."

"It's on my birthday?" Brad asked. He looked a little disappointed.

"Are you twelve? Does it matter?" Schuldig said with a mocking smirk, knowing full well he'd throw a fit if they were given a job on any December 13th at any point in his life. "Who's that?" He asked. The kid was still staring at him, and it was starting to piss him off.

"This is Jei." Blanca introduced. "Jei, this is Schul-"

"I told you, me name's Farfarello now." The boy near-growled. Blanca took a step back from him and pretended it was to remove her coat and hang it up. Schuldig wasn't fooled; she was afraid of him.

It wasn't hard to see why. There was something about his eyes that made one pause, and it wasn't just because they were bright yellow. It was like you could see more than just his expression when you looked him in the eye, although being a telepath Schuldig often felt that way about people. Still, there was something different about Farfarello, an intensity…a violence. Schuldig wasn't scared, but he could tell why other people were.

That and the kid had clearly been cut up like a Christmas ham.

"So you're going to insist on being called by that ridiculous name?" Sylvia asked haughtily.

"I think it's kinda cool. Better than Jei anyway." Schuldig said. He held out his hand for Farfarello to shake, but he only stared at it. Shrugging, Schuldig put his hand on his hip instead.

"I'm Schuldig. I guess you're staying in me and Brad's room, right?"

"I don' know." Farfarello answered.

"Well you're not staying in our room." Sylvia snapped, picking up her overnight bag and heading for the room. Blanca followed after her silently, taking the long way around the room so as to avoid Farfarello.

"Yeh're short." Farfarello said suddenly, eyes narrowing as he continued to stare intensely at Schuldig. "How old are ye?"

"Fourteen." Schuldig answered with a scowl. "Well you're ugly. I'm happier short."

Farfarello shrugged. "I've got no use for me looks anyhow. An' I'm twelve, taller than ye and it doesn't bother me. So there."

"So what's he do?" Schuldig asked, turning to Brad. "Telekinetic? We could use one if we're not taking Sylvia on our team."

"No, Jei's not a telekinetic, although I do agree that we'll need one. He's our tank." Brad answered.

"I've told ye, it's Farfarello now. An' what's that supposed te mean?" He asked.

"Fine. Farfarello." Brad acquiesced. He turned to Schuldig. "He doesn't feel any pain. He's also a very physically overwhelming fighter."

"Great, well I'm taking the tank out for a tour of Quebec City-"

"Schuldig I don't think-"

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. C'mon Farf, ever been on a Funiculaire?" Schuldig asked with a grin.

Before Brad could renew his protests Farfarello had dropped his suitcase and Schuldig had dragged him from the house.

Sitting down with Schuldig's abandoned mission folder Brad decided he was glad at least that they got along. Then he caught a vision of what the two would be up to that night, shuddered, and got his coat.

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"Where the hell have you been?" Rourke snapped as the boys walked into the living room. He was sitting on the couch with Blanca, a stack of papers between them, another on the coffee table and a laptop in front of him. Blanca was stirring a mug, four others on the table in front of her. The girls' bedroom door creaked open, Sylvia stuck her head out and then approached the coffee table to take her cup.

"Out." Schuldig answered, a smile stretching his face that somehow didn't reassure the elder psychics. Maybe it had something to do with the smears of blood on his cheek.

"Oh my lord, what have you been doing?" Blanca asked in a breathy whisper.

Brad shoved Schuldig and Farfarello further into the living room, looking tired and angry. Farfarello's clothes were saturated in blood; it looked like the bits on Schuldig's face had come from splatter.

"Well? Answer the woman dammit!" Rourke shouted, sitting up suddenly so that the stack of papers he'd been reading fell to the floor.

"I was showing Farf around Quebec. We had a little fun, it was no big deal." Schuldig answered. "It's not what you think, we didn't kill anyone."

"Then that's…that's your blood?" Blanca asked. She looked like she was going to faint. "What…what happened?"

"Save the explanations for later, we need to patch him up!" Sylvia said suddenly. A first aid kit flew out of the bathroom and into her outstretched hand. She approached Farfarello carefully, and when he removed his hoodie and held out an arm covered in freely flowing cuts she took it as a sign to start helping him. "Here." She waved a hand and the contents of the coffee table flew neatly to the floor, restacking themselves as appropriately as possible. She motioned to Farfarello, and he sat down in front of her while she cleaned his cuts. "Blanca he needs stitches."

"I…okay, um…oh dear." She took one look at Farf's arms, noted his shirt was torn yet stuck to his bleeding stomach, winced, and looked away. "Can, can one of you kids get the stitches this time?"

"I can handle it. You, go to bed." Brad snapped at Schuldig.

"Why?" Schuldig demanded. "It's only 9:30. You're being a real killjoy tonight, you know that?"

"He could have bled to death!" Brad yelled.

"He doesn't care, he likes it!" Schuldig objected. "It's not like he feels it."

"Just because he can't feel pain-it won't keep him from dying!" Sylvia reminded him.

"But he likes it." Schuldig repeated.

"Do you like it when people carve you up?" Sylvia asked in a sarcastic tone. She didn't seem to expect an answer.

"People? Girlie I did this to myself. Schuldig only watched."

"But…why?" Blanca asked.

Farfarello shrugged. "Don' know why. I just feel better when I do, tha's all. It feels like it's the only thing I can do te get back at God, other than killin' his shepherds I mean. He gave me dis body, an' I can hurt it and hurt God by extension."

"Plus we scared the living shit out of a bunch of tourists. It was really cool." Schuldig said with a wicked smile.

"You, bed, now!" Brad yelled.

"Alright, alright. Damn, you guys have no sense of fun." With that comment he departed.

Farfarello calmly took a sip of tea while Sylvia cleaned his cuts and bandaged the ones that needed it. After a few minutes she got up and let Brad take care of the deeper ones. Her hands were shaking. Clearly she was used to inflicting such damage on others, but for some reason the fact that Farfarello's injuries were self-inflicted bothered her.

"What's all this paper work for?" Farfarello asked. He looked almost bored while Brad sewed his flesh back together.

"For the mission next week." Blanca said weakly.

"Mission? You mean when we get te kill people, right?"

"…well, well yes. But you won't be going with the kids next week, you need training first." Blanca said delicately. Farfarello laughed, and she jerked back, startled by the sound.

"But Miss Wagner, I've already killed more than these two here have done. I don' know how much good more training'll do than what I've done while training meself." Farfarello responded.

"You need to learn about group dynamics though." Brad said while Blanca gaped at the youth.

"Wait a minute, you've never been an assassin before. Why have you been killing people?" Sylvia asked.

"To hurt God because he betrayed me. He cries when I spill the blood of his sheep." Farfarello answered. Sylvia turned a questioning look to Brad, who shook his head. He gave her a look that clearly read 'we can talk about this later'.

Everyone thought better of asking Farfarello more questions after that. He seemed to accept Brad's reason for not sending him on the mission, and after he was stitched up he thanked them for being so friendly towards him and went into the boys' room, where a cot had been set up for him until they could buy him a bed. Blanca and Sylvia cleaned up the living room and Rourke left for his bedroom, muttering about unbalanced child hoodlums.

After the girls finished, Brad followed Sylvia into her room and waited. Sure enough, after pacing back and forth for a minute or two collecting her thoughts she turned to him, expression furious.

"What in the hell were you thinking dragging us halfway across the world to bring _him_ back?"

"Sylvia-"

"He's a loose cannon and he's probably going to get himself killed. Just himself if we're lucky, he could take Schuldig down with him! I mean, it's a wonder they weren't arrested tonight and…and he kills people for fun? I mean really Brad, _were_ you thinking?" She demanded.

He smiled, shook his head and reached out a hand to play with her hair. "Of course I was thinking. I'm the precog, so you can let me worry about what Farfarello and Schuldig will do. I can take care of it."

She snorted. Clearly she didn't believe him. He took her hand and kissed her palm, then watched her expression softened.

"Come on Syl, you know I'm not an idiot."

"No, I know. It just…it worries me. He worries me. For you, you know that, don't you? That I worry for you?" She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he returned the embrace with one arm, the other reaching into her long dark hair and continuing to stroke it. He still loved the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers.

"I know you do, and it's very touching. But I do know what I'm doing." He murmured. 'Which is why this week is going to suck.' He thought, hopefully to himself.

He'd been seeing Sylvia quietly for a little over a year. Blanca was apparently the only one who knew, and how he'd kept it from Schuldig probably had more to do with luck than either of their Talents, of which they'd both employed liberally. Even though the teen was very vocal about what a bitch he thought Sylvia to be it was obvious he was still infatuated with her and seeking her approval. Brad knew dating Sylvia would constitute a betrayal of his friendship to Schuldig, and he wasn't sure he'd disagree.

However he was almost done with Advanced Training and therefore just about ready to leave Sylvia behind. At the moment she still thought they'd be transferred to an assassin team together, and expected another six months of training, at least. But Brad had accomplished everything he'd needed already; he had Farfarello, Blanca wasn't able to show him anything he didn't already know and well, the sooner Schuldig got away from Rourke the better for both of them.

Something about this week was going to cause Blanca and Rourke's superiors to end their training early. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew it involved Schuldig and Rourke, and that it would have to be pretty big to convince the Organization an early end to training was preferable to the hassle of keeping the two telepaths in the same building. After his first disappearance things had cooled off for a few days, but then another fight had led to another disappearance until it became a regular occurrence for Schuldig to take off for days at a time.

This week that cycle would finally end. Brad would be able to exploit the situation into getting them transferred to Esset far earlier than even Blanca had anticipated, as they were practically done with Advanced Training, and that it would hardly be worth it to start them with a new instructor.

And that meant he would be leaving, most likely for Japan. He would need to explain to Sylvia that despite her and Rosenkreuz's expectations, she wouldn't be part of his assassin team, and that likely they'd never see each other again. Effectively he was dumping her, and he didn't want to.

He wondered how it was she'd never picked up on his thoughts about her. They'd spent so much time together, and telepaths unconsciously picked up thoughts by proximity unless the person with them actively shielded their thoughts. She still wasn't anything close to Schuldig in telepathic ability, but after two years with Rourke teaching her she was good. He wondered if the end of the relationship would surprise her, if she was in denial or if she'd somehow allowed him his mental privacy.

"Brad…darling you're a million miles away. Is everything alright?" She asked.

He sighed, not sure how to answer that. She nuzzled him affectionately, tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes so that her lashes tickled his throat. "Darling…are you alright?"

"Fine. Just thinking-"

"About the future, I know. Why don't you sleep in here tonight? That way Farfarello can spend his first night in Canada in a bed instead of on a cot."

"Oh, and you think Miss Blanca will be okay with that?" Brad asked.

Sylvia laughed. "I'm eighteen now. She's not allowed to complain anymore. Besides, I think if I ask her nicely enough she'd sleep on the couch…"

Brad smirked. In some matters Sylvia could be incredibly optimistic.

She stood on her tip toes to give him a quick kiss. "I can go ask her now."

"She noticed the hickey you know. I don't think she liked it." Brad reminded her. She kissed him again.

"If you can't say anything constructive-"Another kiss. "-then you can-" Another kiss. "-stop talking."

The next kiss wasn't as light and playful. One of her hands threaded through his hair, the other one gripped the back of his shirt like she was holding onto him metaphorically as well as physically and he dropped his illusions. She knew what was coming. He kissed her back as passionately and when he pulled away it was to give in.

"Maybe one of us can talk to Miss Blanca." He murmured.

"No need." Blanca announced. She walked over to the dresser, pulled out a nightgown and then grabbed the pillow and blanket off her bed. "Just make sure you wake up before Schuldig does and switch places with me on the couch so the poor boy doesn't throw a tantrum."

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Schuldig was in a bad mood the next morning. At first Brad was tense, worried that the telepath had gotten into his or Sylvia's or Blanca's head and found out about the very wonderful night he'd spent in Sylvia's bed, but the teen's rage was clearly directed at Rourke and so he calmed down. He tried to keep the vacant smile from his lips that kept threatening to return and to stop looking at Sylvia so damn much.

"Why am I the only one who has to cross dress in missions? Why can't you just send Sylvia when we need female bait?" Schuldig demanded.

"Because this target doesn't like yellow pussy, that's why." Rourke snapped. "And it's not your place to question our orders!"

"I'm not doing it again, I hate cross dressing. I'm not twelve anymore, I don't still look like a girl-"

Rourke cut off his protests by laughing.

"Oh really Alan, that's not very mature." Blanca snapped.

"Well will you just look at him? With his hair all long and fruity and still no hair on his face? And those big blue eyes? Sometimes he's prettier than Sylvia here." Rourke laughed.

"And what did I do to deserve that?" Sylvia said, showing the first indication since they'd sat down for breakfast that she knew anyone but Brad was sitting at the table.

"Nothing m'dear. Sorry, you're still the prettiest girl in the room." Rourke said apologetically, nodding in her direction but still looking at Schuldig with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"I'm. Not. Doing. It." Schuldig snarled.

Rourke jumped up from the table and slammed his fist down on it. "I'm sick of your attitude, you obnoxious brat! You'll do what you're told because Rosenkreuz bleeding owns you and by extension, as long as I'm training you I own you!"

"A festering turd like you? The day I let a brain dead sack of shit like you own me is the day I go in for a lobotomy!" Schuldig yelled back, also standing up. Before either telepath could make a move to kill the other Farfarello stood up suddenly and moved in front of Schuldig protectively. The message was clear, and Rourke backed down from the challenge. It might have had something to do with the angle of the butter knife Farfarello held, and the way it was facing his bad leg.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like this?" Rourke asked Blanca, entreating her for help.

"He's your student Rourke. But Schuldig, you know you have to do your part for the mission." She said, as gently as possible.

Schuldig looked outraged. He turned to Brad for help, but the precog was gazing at Sylvia and somehow wasn't paying attention to him. Apparently over a year of almost daily breakfast brawls had finally taken their toll on Brad's attention span.

"If he doesn' want to, I don' see how yeh're goin' to make him." Farfarello growled.

"Well then you'll just have to find out. You're still new here." Rourke reminded him.

"Why do I have to go in drag to kill him?" Schuldig asked Blanca. His voice was somewhere between whining and pleading. She let out a relieved breath; the threat of a physical fight had passed. She should have noticed the desperation in his eyes, but being intent on avoiding injured assassins this close to a mission she didn't much care.

"It'll be easier to get in and get close to him that way. You know that." She answered.

"But why's it always me? Why can't it ever be Brad?" Schuldig asked.

"Brad's older, taller and you're a blond." Rourke pointed out.

"So? He can wear a wig sometime and some guys like tall chicks. I refuse to believe every pervert we've gone after prefers short, skinny blonds-"

"So you don't know much about heterosexual men." Sylvia pointed out with a derisive laugh. Schuldig's scowl returned.

"You all suck, you know that? You can all go to hell, I'm going to my room and I don't want to see any of your fucking traitorous faces until the fucking mission!" He left the room and a moment later they heard a door slam.

"What happened?" Brad asked suddenly.

Rourke snorted. "Schuldig's ignoring us. Bloody miracle if you ask me. Between that and Miss Blanca's bacon I'd say this is the best start to a day I've had in weeks."

"I didn't betray him." Farfarello muttered. He walked over to the bedroom and knocked on the locked door.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Schuldig it's me. Farfie." He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the nickname, but thought using it might make Schuldig feel better.

"…You don't have to fuck yourself but go away."

"Okay, if ye want me to. Are you sure?" He asked. He'd only known the telepath a couple of days, but he got the impression that was enough. Schuldig liked attention. He didn't like to be alone with other people's thoughts.

"No…" A moment later Schuldig unlocked the door and opened it up. He'd been crying but was trying like hell to hide it while ineffectually wiping at his face with one hand. "I want to kill Rourke."

"Why?" Farfarello asked. "Because he makes you do t'ings ye don't want to?"

"Yeah. The bastard makes me wear dresses every chance he can. I want to fucking rip out his innards and strangle him with them."

"That's fun, I've done it."

"I know, that's how I thought of it." Schuldig said with a small smile. Farfarello smiled back at him. Smiling didn't suit him, but Schuldig thought he could get used to it.

"Do ye wanna go out and give me another tour until the mission?" Farfarello asked.

"I don't know, I kinda showed you all my favorite places yesterday." Schuldig answered.

"Well ye didn't show me any churches. We can have a lot of fun at a church."

Schuldig grinned. "There are a lot of Catholics in Quebec."

Blanca watched the two boys leave with some measure of anxiety, but decided Schuldig needed to blow off steam so he wouldn't do something stupid that night when his life was potentially at stake. She just hoped his activities with Farfarello in the meantime wouldn't be as reckless as she feared.

She walked over to the kitchen where Sylvia was doing the dishes while Brad watched her with a dazed smile on his face. Rourke had departed at some point.

"Brad dear, can I talk to your for a second?" Blanca asked, not quite able to keep the anxiety from her tone.

"Of course. What is it?" He asked. She shook her head and led him into her bedroom. She only spoke after he sat down on the bed and she shut the door.

"Well you were right about Farfarello and Schuldig getting along."

"Oh yeah…I'd forgotten about that." Brad said, referencing their talk. That seemed like forever ago.

"Mmm, back when you paid more attention to your future teammate than your girlfriend?" Blanca said carefully. Brad's eyes narrowed. "You've been distracted. I'm surprised Schuldig hasn't noticed. Luckily he's so self-centered that all he's registered is you don't pay as much attention to him anymore, and he's so hurt he hasn't bothered to ask why."

"He's my roommate and he's Schuldig. Of course I pay attention to him." Brad didn't seem very happy about being criticized. "He's so difficult though-"

"I know, believe me Brad I sympathize. He uses people up. But remember, your plans involve investing yourself in Schuldig, not Sylvia. And I'm worried about him."

"Did you See something?" Brad asked, some fear finally showing on his face. Blanca was relieved to see he still cared about Schuldig's well being as a friend instead of his maintenance as a tool. It really had just been a case of puppy love distracting him then.

"As far as the future goes, no. But I know what I saw this morning and I know you weren't paying attention to any of it. Rourke's pushing him too far. I think this mission is his breaking point." She said darkly.

"I know. But what the hell am I supposed to do about it?" He asked suddenly. "I can't protect him from, well anything. And it does make me feel like a useless dirt bag, if you're curious. And it's only going to get worse from here on out, when I can't keep Farfarello from hurting himself or Nagi from hating himself-"

"Honey, honey! I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. I know if you could you'd do anything for any one of us. Well, maybe not Alan, but definitely the other kids. You're a good person and this life is killing you, isn't it?" She asked gently, sitting down next to him and patting his arm.

"I'm turning into a monster." He muttered, giving voice to a thought that had been haunting him from the first time he'd shot someone.

Blanca squeezed his hand. She wouldn't contradict him, she'd Seen as much as he had. But she could try to comfort him. "You can turn back someday, when you're finished with this life."

"…how long have you known about…about…"

"Your plans? Before I met you dear. I have my own reasons for wishing you well. I only wish I could be standing next to you when you finally shoot those bastard Esset elders down. And you will dear, don't you worry about that." She kissed the top of his head and left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.


	13. Conflict

Chapter Twelve

Farfarello sat on the couch with a toothbrush in his hand. He was shirtless, sporting a few new cuts. There was a bottle of club soda on the coffee table in front of him, and a little bowl full of it that he'd been rinsing the reddened toothbrush in. His shirt was spread out on his lap; he'd been trying to get the bloodstains out of it before Blanca and Rourke could see it and figure out what he and Schuldig had done before returning in time for the mission, but now he was distracted.

If everything went well his friend and his other roommates would be getting back soon.

He went back to scrubbing at the t-shirt, but there was too much blood. He gave it up as a bad job and dumped the thing in the kitchen bin. He figured they'd find it, but hopefully the mission had gone well enough that the adults wouldn't be too angry.

He went into the bedroom and borrowed one of Brad's t-shirts. The first one he found was a Cranberries shirt and he felt a pang of homesickness. It faded quickly; there were still bits of Catholic under his fingernails.

Farfarello sat on his hands while he waited for the others, hoping they wouldn't notice the red under his nails. He'd tried to get the blood out but it hadn't worked.

Blanca's car finally pulled into the driveway. A moment later the front door slammed open. Great, they were all yelling. He wondered if all the Rosenkreuz psychics he was going to meet would be as cranky as these ones.

He couldn't make out what any of them were saying, but Schuldig was limping and wearing more blood than any of the others. He'd also been punched in the face; his cheek was swelling from a fresh bruise. That and the dress he was wearing had been ripped.

Sylvia didn't look too happy either. There were stray hairs sticking out from her bun and a strip of her tank top had been torn away, turning it into a belly shirt, so that she could tie it around her shoulder until they got to better medical supplies. Blanca was thin lipped and tense, and Brad was cradling a sore left arm.

"Are ye alright?" Farfarello was talking to Schuldig, who didn't seem to hear him, as intent as he was on yelling at Rourke.

"Do we look alright?" Sylvia asked. "Come on Brad, I'll look at your arm."

"I'm looking at your shoulder first." He argued as he followed her into her bedroom.

"Everything's fine, it just could have gone more smoothly. That's all." Blanca said tiredly to Farfarello, noticing his anxiety.

"You fucked up is what happened!" Rourke spat at Schuldig.

"I didn't fuck up! They were gonna fucking gang-bang me and you wanted me to keep the act going until Sylvia and Brad were done with the main room and I fucking refused and rightly fucking so!" Schuldig snapped back.

Blanca looked ready to collapse. "Please, please just drop it! It's over, we're all alive and you're not going to agree. Please. Trust the precog on this, you're not going to agree no matter how much you fight."

True to his character Rourke ignored her. "You come with me. We're going over this mission as much as we have to until we can find a way to keep you from fucking up like that in the future." He pulled Schuldig angrily towards his bedroom.

"I've got a way to keep that from happening again! Send Brad in as the cute blond for once instead of me and let him see how he likes it!" Schuldig's voice was cut off by the door slamming shut.

Farfarello frowned. "I wanted to talk to Schuldig."

"I know. It's okay, you can see him tomorrow." Blanca said. She'd collapsed on the couch. She wasn't injured, but somehow she looked more hurt and tired than the rest of them. "I know we don't know each other very well yet Farfarello, but I don't suppose you'd mind doing me a favor and making me a cup of chamomile? I'll ignore what you put in the kitchen trash if you'd like."  
Farfarello's thin eyebrows rose. Living with psychics was going to take some getting used to.

As he put the water on the stove he reflected that he didn't mind Schuldig's power as much as Blanca and Brad's. Schuldig had explained the other day that Farfarello's mind confused and scared him, so he wouldn't be prying into his thoughts unless he had to for work. That was something the boy could live with.

Meanwhile Brad was finishing stitching up Sylvia's shoulder. "Are you okay? Maybe you should take an aspirin or something."

"Brad, you don't really think an aspirin is going to do anything for me, do you?" She snorted. Her eyes had watered, but otherwise she showed no signs of pain.

"I can wish." He answered. He caressed the side of her face. "Wish I'd gotten that blow instead of you."

"It's what makes you so sweet." She murmured, leaning back against him. He inhaled deeply, reveling in the smell of jasmine and lavender that still clung to her despite the blood.

"You're injured, you should go to bed." He muttered reluctantly.

"If we're careful we can still have fun before bed." She purred, tilting her head back for a kiss. He grinned and pulled away.

"Nice try. Get some rest." He cleaned up the first aid supplies and left the room. Sylvia pouted, but she turned in with a smile on her lips.

Brad found Blanca in the living room with her feet propped on a pillow on the coffee table and a mug in her hand. Farfarello watched him from the boys' bedroom doorway. When Brad looked up and saw him he disappeared inside it and shut the door.

"Hm. I thought he'd be bothering Schuldig." Brad observed.

"What? Oh, Rourke's going over the mission with Schuldig." Blanca said distractedly. He recognized the relaxed look that crossed her face; she was having a vision, therefore pursuing a conversation with her would be useless. Brad hovered awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, suddenly uneasy.

He walked into the kitchen and turned the light on, but of course the telepaths weren't in there. Anxious, he even checked the porch.

"Blanca? You said Schuldig's with Rourke? In private?" He asked, but she was still lost in her vision. The feeling of unease was quickly becoming panic. "Blanca? They're not in Rourke's room, are they? BLANCA!!"

"Ah!" She grabbed at her chest, startled. "Oh holy shit Brad, I thought you knew better than to rip me from a vision by now! Oh Christ, I'm going to be disoriented for the rest of the night." She buried her head in her hands and clutched at her skull.

"Blanca, you seriously did not let Rourke take Schuldig into his bedroom while he was still in drag, did you?" Brad asked, voice eerily quiet.

"I…oh, oh I guess I did." She answered, sounding rather dazed. Rourke had been so rational at the time she hadn't thought anything of it. Or, at least rational for Rourke. Suddenly she seemed to catch Brad's anxiety. "Oh no…I did."

But Brad wasn't listening anymore. He was at Rourke's bedroom door turning the doorknob, and of course it was locked. "Rourke!" He banged on the bedroom door. "Rourke, Schuldig! I need to talk to you!" He pounded louder, but the door wasn't opened. He tried to push down the panic and tried not to think of what Rourke might be doing while Schuldig had an injured leg and half a dress on.

"They, they could just be discussing the mission like he said." Blanca said hopefully.

Brad banged his head against the door and kept his forehead on it, eyes squeezed shut. He was being overwhelmed by frustration and a feeling of uselessness. How sad, a locked door was enough to prevent him from knowing whether his teammate was safe.

In the quiet and with his head next to the door he could hear some of the noises coming from the other room. He could hear Schuldig crying and quietly pleading, and Rourke's mattress creaking. That was enough.

He kicked the door and heard it crack, but it didn't open. So he kicked it again and again and again until it did. Then he ran over to the bed and pulled Rourke away from his friend and started punching him. The wet smacking sound Rourke's face made sounded good so he did it again. He kept punching the bastard even when Blanca came into the room and yelled at him to stop, that he was going to kill him. His vision was blurred by angry tears as he kept hitting the man, even though he'd already broken every part of Rourke's face that he possibly could. He only stopped when Schuldig finally told him to.

"Your fucking hands Brad, you're hurting yourself!" He yelled. His voice was hoarse and shaking. In fact he was trembling all over.

Brad dropped the useless asshole of a telepath he was holding and took some pleasure in the gurgling sound he started to make as he choked on his own blood. He walked over to Schuldig and gently pushed some of his tangled hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Schu, this was my fault. I was supposed to protect you."

Schuldig closed his eyes as a sob escaped him. "You split your fucking knuckles open punching him Brad, I think you made it up to me."

Brad looked down at his hands and noticed that some of the blood on them was his and that he'd indeed torn his knuckles open on shards of Rourke's face. He belatedly noticed how much it stung.

He turned to Blanca, who was holding Rourke upright so he wouldn't actually asphyxiate on his blood. "We're leaving. Have this piece of shit gone in the morning so I don't kill him when we get back."

"I'm coming too." Farfarello said. He'd been lingering in the doorway where no one had seen him. As soon as Brad had kicked in the door he'd been there. He tossed a pair of pajama pants to Schuldig and a t-shirt.

Brad opened his mouth to protest, but Schuldig silenced him with a look. "He's one of us. He's coming."

Brad nodded.

"But, you have to come back." Blanca said quietly. "They'll kill you if you don't come back. Oh Brad, they might kill you for what you did to Rourke-"

"They won't." This was what he'd planned around, but if he'd Seen this he would've looked for another way to get them to Esset. He would have waited if he'd had to. "We'll be back."

Schuldig dressed and the boys left. Brad didn't spare a thought for Sylvia, whom he forgot to say goodbye to.

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That night the boys shared a room at the hotel Schuldig and Sylvia used to swim at, courtesy of Rourke's credit card. Farfarello had asked for a pillow and blanket and taken a spot at the foot of the bed, the bed he'd declared to be for Schuldig's use. There was only the one so Brad had thrown a pillow on the couch before sitting down on the bed next to Schuldig, who didn't look ready for sleep just yet. Farfarello's quiet snoring accompanied their whispered conversation.

"I'm okay Brad, and I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not okay, no one can be okay after…that." His eyes traveled to his bandaged hands. Schuldig smirked, but his eyes still looked haunted.

"So I'm not okay, but I'm not going to break, if that's what you're worried about. It's not fun of course, but the guy's been doing it to me for like two years. So I'm not going to fall apart from it just because you guys finally know what's going on."

"Two years?" Brad repeated. "I…I didn't think he was actually…I knew he wanted to, but…two years?"

Schuldig nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Brad asked.

Schuldig closed his eyes. "I guess mostly because of your plans-"

"My plans?" He felt disgusted. If Schuldig had put up with two years of rape silently because of him for any reason he would never trust himself as leader of their team.

"Well yeah. Because you know what you're doing, Brad. We're going to get revenge for everything one day, and if you said we needed to stay in Canada with Rourke and Miss Blanca to get to Esset quicker, then we needed to. It's part of playing the game. And if you'd known then you would have turned Rourke's face to raw meat earlier and we'd both be dead now, ne?" He asked. "Do I have that right?"

Brad didn't respond, because he'd have to tell the smirking bastard he was absolutely right. He let out an angry breath. "He shouldn't have been able to do that to you. I'm surprised you didn't castrate him, you're quicker than him."

"Because that would have gone down well with our superiors. I do listen to you sometimes you know." Schuldig answered.

"And the things you choose to listen to me for." Brad shook his head. He felt like crying.

Schuldig frowned. "I didn't screw things up, did I? I mean your plans?"

His plans. Christ. He made a resolution not to proceed with plans in the future until he'd worked out all of the unknowns.

"No, no…this fit into everything. I knew you and Rourke were going to, well I knew something was going to happen this week but I didn't know what. Tomorrow I'll talk to some bigwigs in the Organization and we'll be Esset property by the end of the week. Just…just promise me something Schu."

"Anything for you, Fearless Leader." Schuldig answered, voice tired although he was finally starting to look something like his normal self.

"Never, ever let anything like that happen to you again. I don't care how much we have to sacrifice for our plans. I don't want any of us to have to be hurt or humiliated like that, not you, not me, not Farfarello and not our fourth when you get to meet him. We can find a different path. Understand?"

"Of course. Don't worry Brad, this'll be an easy promise to keep." Schuldig answered. He was chewing on his lower lip, which was a clear Schuldig signal that he had something he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to get to it. Brad waited, but although Schuldig started to say something a couple times he couldn't quite finish his thought.

"What is it? Do you need something?" He gently prodded.

Schuldig mumbled something that he couldn't quite make out. "Sorry?"

"Am I useless?" He asked, audibly. "I mean, I know Rourke's a good liar, but he said that to me so much…but sometimes Miss Blanca thinks that I'm not useless, but that you're using me…like exploiting me. And I'm not sure which one is better. I always thought we were working together-"

"We are. I don't always tell you everything that's going on because I can't, but we are working together. And you're _not_ worthless. How could that piece of shit possibly make you believe that? Seriously, with your ego?"

Schuldig smirked self-consciously and wiped at his face. "Yeah, I know…hear something enough though. He says there are better telepaths than me, and what he used me for was all I'm good for, that I'm only special because I'm 'pretty'. Christ, I hope no one ever calls me a pretty boy again. I'll have Farf disfigure me if I have to."

"I wouldn't go that far. Pedophiles aside there are some nice perks to being attractive. Besides, having Farfarello cut up your face would hurt and you're not that good with pain." Brad pointed out.

Schuldig wiped at his eyes again. "Gee thanks. Seriously though, neither of them were right, right?"

"Of course not. You should know me better than that by now."

He nodded. "Thanks."

Brad stood up to leave for the couch. "You should get some sleep."

"Wait." Schuldig grabbed his arm and he sat back down. "I don't want to sleep alone…Can you stay with me? I don't want to sleep because sometimes…can I have your dreams tonight?"

Brad wasn't about to refuse him anything at the moment, so he laid down and Schuldig curled up against him and flung an arm across his chest.

"What do you want me to think about?" Brad asked quietly. "My home again?" When Schuldig was upset he liked seeing memories of apple picking and the Topsfield Fair. He really liked the fall for some reason.

"No." Schuldig murmured. "I want you to think about your visions…of us burning Rosenkreuz to the ground."

"Okay. I can manage that."

A/N I've got another chapter coming people, this is NOT the end yet! Thanks again for all the reviews I've gotten thus far. I promise to have the last chapter up sometime this week and hopefully a sequel begun sometime shortly thereafter. This is still part of a series, promise!


	14. The End & Epilogue

A/N: Hey guys! It's been a great ride and I appreciate everyone who has gratified my ego by reviewing this ficcie, which for the moment I am still rather proud of. I've got a couple of other fics in the works set in the same continuity as Journey. The first one you're probably going to see is tentatively called Dido and won't actually feature Schwarz…I'm gonna catch you up on what a couple of the Weisslings have been doing. The other fic is called Pretenders and will pick up a couple years from where this fic leaves off with a fully formed Schwarz in Tokyo interacting with Farblos. Good-good? Hope to see you guys there! -

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Chapter Thirteen

True to his word Brad turned up on the doorstep the next morning. Schuldig and Farfarello were waiting in the car with cups of hot chocolate watching him have a quick conversation with Blanca.

"She doesn't look happy." Farfarello pointed out. He was leaning forward from the backseat to talk to Schuldig, who was in the front passenger side.

"She doesn't look unhappy." Schuldig responded. He'd looked up from his shaking hands to look at Blanca at Farfarello's words.

"No, not the woman. The girl." Farfarello jerked his head to the living room window. Sylvia was sitting on the window seat staring at the car. Schuldig's eyes widened. She did look sad. Their eyes met and they both looked away very quickly.

Farfarello smirked. "I think she likes you."

"Shows how much you know. She hates me." Schuldig muttered.

"She's not looking at ye like she hates ye boyo." Farfarello answered.

"Boyo?" Schuldig repeated with a snort. Farfarello shrugged.

Brad got their attention by knocking on the window. Schuldig jumped, then rolled it down. "Yes Fearless Leader?"

"That's not a new nickname, is it?" Brad asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "The Bastard is in the hospital. Looks like after all his fractures heal he's going to need reconstructive and cosmetic surgery." None of the boys tried to hide their smiles at the news. "So you can come inside and pack. Blanca placed a call to the Organization last night, and we're going to be transferred. I'm going to need to talk to them for a little while and it's best if neither of you are present. Can you stay in the bedroom for awhile?"

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "Can't we just take off somewhere?"

"Sure, killing sprees are so much better." He said sarcastically. "We're going to be in trouble if anyone picks up a newspaper Schuldig, you know that don't you? Stay in the bedroom."

"Fine. Take all the fun out of life."

Brad led them back into the house. Blanca looked like she wanted to hug Schuldig, but he walked past her too quickly. He did pause by the living room to trade a questioning look with Sylvia. Farfarello tugged on Schuldig's sleeve and he continued unsteadily towards the bedroom.

"Schuldig! Um…can I talk to you?" Sylvia asked.

He looked at his feet for a second before looking at her face and nodding. "S-sure. Oh c'mon Farf, I'll only be a minute."

"Fine. Pick the girl over me, I see how it is." Farfarello muttered. He didn't look angry though.

Schuldig followed Sylvia into her bedroom and she closed the door.

"I didn't know Schuldig, I swear I didn't. I…suddenly your bad attitude makes a lot more sense." She murmured.

"Yeah?" He asked, trying to keep an idiotic look from his face. Somehow being a victim had finally made Sylvia be nice to him. And he was leaving Canada in a couple of days, if Brad was right, which he always was. The knot in his stomach started to loosen.

"I mean, you're still an obnoxious little brat but..."

"Hey, I'm almost taller than you now." Schuldig muttered.

She smirked and shook her head. "Almost. But not quite. Look, um…I know Brad picked you. Blanca told me last night after you left that you three would be leaving soon and that we're…that I'm not coming." Her face fell. Her misery suddenly shone clearly, and Schuldig felt a pang of it himself. He certainly didn't want to leave Sylvia behind. She was a bitch, but she was a sexy bitch and he still liked her.

"I'm sor-"

"Anyway, the point of it is I don't want you to leave with a mistaken impression of me. I'm…I know I wasn't very nice to you. I feel bad about that. All…alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

One of her eyebrows quirked. "Now you're supposed to apologize for being an ass as well."

He grinned. "Oh come on Syl, you should know better than to expect a miracle. I actually am a self centered prick, you know that, right?" He asked.

Emboldened by her smile, which for once wasn't condescending, he did something very bold and leaned in for a quick kiss. She didn't pull away, and so he cupped her face and enjoyed the feeling of her hair against the back of his hand for a few seconds longer before ending the kiss. "You smell like jasmine."

"And you smell awful. That was a pity kiss, don't let it go to your head. Goodbye Schuldig." She turned and walked from the room. He stood there with his hand still stretched out, and her long hair slid through his fingers as she turned.

"Bye Syl." He whispered.

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"You look happy." Brad muttered darkly as he, Farfarello and Schuldig got into a cab together to head for the airport. Schuldig shrugged, but the stupid happy smile didn't leave his face. Farfarello's scowl indicated it had been there for some time already.

"I've decided that in the future I do want you present for any and all meetings we have with senior Rosenkreuz officials. And Esset officials. With any psychics, actually." He muttered so that their driver couldn't hear.

Schuldig smirked at him. "They pry at your unprotected little mind, did they?"

"Of course. I kept a good poker face though. We're on our way to Tokyo and I have permission to root around for our fourth. Then we'll get started on our first job for Esset."

"How exciting." Schuldig said with fake brightness.

"I thought I was still in trainin'?" Farfarello inquired. He looked moody. He doubted there were many Catholic churches in Tokyo. At least there wouldn't be as many as in Canada.

"No one in the Organization has a Talent like yours. So they decided Schuldig and I can handle your training, and if I wheedle them just right we can train the fourth by ourselves too. So far I've gotten them to underestimate us at Esset, and for some reason the Rosenkreuz representatives aren't correcting their impressions. I don't understand why, but I'm grateful. If they knew how well Schuldig is thought of by the other telepaths-"

"Please, Sylvia was right. I'm getting older now and leveling out with the others. I'm not a prodigy anymore." Schuldig looked mildly annoyed by that. "I'm actually going to have to start working soon."

Brad grinned. "Don't worry, I've got my eyes on a new prodigy."

Epilogue

Blanca watched the cab pull away from her, expression oddly blank as she watched the boys leave. She thought of the two years she'd invested in their training, and in her boy's well being, and she hadn't even been able to say a proper goodbye.

Brad and the Rosenkreuz representatives had taken up all of her attention while the boys had been in the house, and after packing and talking to Sylvia, Farfarello and Schuldig had waited outside.

She squinted in an attempt to make out the messy blond hair in the backseat window, but then the cab turned the corner and they were gone.

Blanca let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding and walked back into the house. Her strides were purposeful but she felt as though she were moving in a fog. She gave no outward sign of being upset.

The precog rooted around in the cabinets a moment until she found an old tea tin from which she extracted a small bottle and a syringe. She would be caught, but she didn't much care. That bastard would suffer her retribution.

"Miss Blanca?" Sylvia's voice was timid and polite, jerking her harshly back to the present. Her thoughts had been on the future not as a vision, but as a fantasy.

"Yes, what is it dear?" Blanca asked.

"What's going to happen to me now?" The girl asked quietly. Blanca cast an approving look at her pupil. She was made of stronger stuff than Blanca had anticipated; based on the strength of her crush, the precog had always expected that having her boyfriend and first love flee for another continent would destroy her. Her eyes weren't even slightly red and her posture was still strong and confident.

"You're heading back to Germany with me at the end of the week. We'll be staying at the Barracks outside Berlin for a little while until your new training can be arranged."

"More training?" She asked, curiosity in her tone.

"Mmm. With Colonel Amlisch. He's shown interest in taking you into Farblos, you should feel honored." Blanca answered. Sylvia's eyes widened. Farblos was a team that would far outrank Schwarz; she wouldn't be going back to the bottom of the food chain at all, far from it.

"Are you going somewhere Miss Blanca?" Sylvia asked, noticing the woman slip something into her purse before searching out her coat.

"Out for a drive. I have some thinking to do." Blanca answered. She dredged up one of her familiar, maternal smiles for the girl's sake. "I was thinking of picking up some things for a nice dinner tonight, I think we deserve some pampering after how hectic this week's been. Does comfort food sound good to you too dear?"

Sylvia nodded and retreated for the living room, and Blanca slipped out of the house and into the car.

About twenty minutes later she was sitting next to Rourke's bed at the hospital. He looked half-dead, which frankly wasn't dead enough for Blanca's tastes, but she knew better than to go that far. Brad had certainly made the man hurt for what he'd done to Schuldig, however a broken face far from satisfied her.

He was sleeping, and she considered waking him up so he'd hear everything she had to say, but she didn't. She took the syringe and the bottle out of her purse, filled the syringe and held it to Rourke's vein.

"You unimaginable bastard. In the home I tried to create, under my own nose, that's how you chose to treat my baby."

She pushed the plunger down.

"I hope you enjoy this. A friend of mine developed it in a Rosen lab. Warps your Talent, makes it nearly impossible to manage. Congratulations Alan, you're now a prisoner in your own fractured mind."

She calmly left the hospital, got into the car and only then did her hands start to shake. In a few hours time the same Rosenkreuz representatives she'd spoken to with Brad would come and collect her for what she'd done. She wasn't sure what would happen to her after that, but she didn't care. She'd served her purpose. She'd done everything she could to help Brad Crawford and Schuldig pull free from Esset and Rosenkreuz, not because they had any chance of actually destroying either organization, or because she even cared if the organizations were destroyed. Brad thought she wanted them to succeed for some form of sympathetic revenge, but really her reasons were a lot more simple.

She'd recognized Schuldig the first time she'd seen him, or more specifically she'd recognized Emil's dark blue eyes and handsome face. He wasn't 'pretty', her son was handsome. And even though he still had a lot of suffering ahead of him, she'd Seen a happy ending for him. It was still a long way away, but he'd get there and that was all she cared about.

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More Author's Notes: feel free to ignore the epilogue if you don't like it, that's why it's an epilogue and not a chapter…um yeah, about that. I thought I owed you readers some explanation…I did not go into this expecting to give Schuldig a mommy. Blanca's an odd character for me. She just kind of came fully formed. Initially I just needed a name, and then I decided to make her German because I hadn't developed a German Rosenkreuz psychic yet, well not an original one anyway. Her motivations were always weird to me, because she always acted so nice to the kids…but she's actually not a nice person. For awhile I thought she liked them for the reasons Brad thinks she likes them. Sometime around writing chapter ten I figured it out and went 'shit. No one likes original characters with familial connections to a main character'. But I couldn't get rid of it, it just explains who she is. She's maternal not because she's a maternal sort of person who likes to take care of strange teenagers, but because she loves one of them. So yeah, needless to say there will be more work done with Blanca, but not for awhile. I have a few more story arcs to go before I'm ready to bring her back.

Thanks again guys! Happy winter!


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